One Day at Christmas
by llnbooks
Summary: Set in the "Personal Demon" and "Sweet Child of Mine" universe. One day at Christmas, one Ghostbuster wished for the chance to spend a day with her dad. What could go wrong? AU. Book #4 of 4.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note: First, I want to say a big thank you to the folks who kindly received "Personal Demon" and "Sweet Child of Mine". I appreciate you very much. As for the not kind feedback, well, can't please everyone._ _If you haven't read those stories, you might be a little lost with this storyline. Second, this story is set in that same AU, but it is NOT the direct sequel "Message in a Bottle" that is previewed in "Sweet Child of Mine". That story is coming soon. Continuity-wise this would be story #4 of 4. "Message in a Bottle" is coming soon, it's just not quite done yet. I put teasers for it in this story._

 _I wrote this one because I wanted to do a separate Christmas piece just to give my brain a rest from that trilogy. I also wanted to bring Egon back for a visit as I promised._

 _There are two endings for this story-the original ending, and an alternative ending that was inspired by the gag reel/deleted scenes from the movie. You can pick your favorite._

 _As always, I don't own the "Ghostbusters" (I have, however, already pestered the lovely folks at Ghost Corps, who do own the characters, to please include the ladies in future projects as I really do like both the original and the new GB characters. I'd suggest anyone who wants to see them return speak to Ghost Corps before it's too late. The hateful backlash really brings me down sometimes.) Also, Winston's quote is from "Home Alone 2: Lost in New York", which I also do not own._

 _Rated T (or PG-13) for adult situations, some violence, but mostly for language and angst._

 **GHOSTBUSTERS**

" **One Day at Christmas"**

" _I don't want a check that's made out to 'Cash', Or a corporate re-gift from some secret stash._

 _I'd like a day with my dad. Just a day? Make it two._

 _If you can do that, Santa, I'll believe in you." – Elf: The Musical; "I'll Believe in You"_

 **1**

 **On This NYC Christmas**

"All I'm saying is Abby's my secret Santa. You know I'm getting a book or some documentary DVD on Cappadocian aqueducts. So, when you see her purchasing one of these things, can you just tell her to go to 'Bed, Bath, and Beyond' and get me some damn bath salts like normal people do?"

Patty Tolan was exhausted, which was making her cranky. She hadn't slept in about thirty hours thanks to the latest outbreak of spectral activity in New York. It was four p.m. on Christmas Eve eve, and her holiday shopping still wasn't done because of said outbreak of spectral activity. She was supposed to be performing with her church choir at that exact moment, not standing in the middle of Central Park preparing to nab her third ghost of the day (and tenth ghost of the week). God help any mugger who might try to start something with her; in Patty's current sour mood, he was going to get a butt-full of accelerated neutrinos.

The overload of work didn't seem to affect her partner at all, but then again, if Jillian Holtzmann did experience stress, the engineer rarely let it show. She thrived on the challenge of creating new machines to combat and contain whatever ghost came along on a given day. Tell her a problem couldn't be solved, and she'd peer at you from behind those yellow-lens glasses of hers and proceed to prove you wrong. Deprive her of sleep by bombarding the city with ghosts, she'd keep going until every last one was caught like the damn Energizer bunny (if the Energizer bunny powered itself by randomly dancing to 80s tunes instead of batteries).

 _Being bat crap crazy was an asset in their line of work_ , Patty mused.

Holtzman currently was happily preparing to test one of her new toys. The new gadget looked to Patty like a Slinky welded to an egg beater plugged into a portable charging device, with the customary foot pedal trigger. She placed the device in the middle of the road.

The blonde engineer nodded sympathetically at Patty's complaint. "Yeah, it's kinda too late. And it's a DVD on Scottish castles. Don't forget to act surprised when you open it."

Patty groaned. "Aw, man. I am not interested in documentaries on Scottish castles-unless Liam Neeson or Sam Heughan comes with it. Or that Adrian Paul, remember him?"

"The Highlander? Immortal hotties running around lopping off each other's heads with swords? I loved that show," Holtzmann grinned.

Her partner blinked at her. "Have I mentioned today that you still scare me?"

As usual, Holtzmann took that as a compliment, not a critique. "Speaking of scary…head's up. Here comes Ghost Rider."

She'd heard the pounding of hooves and the rattle of the runaway carriage before it came careening around the bend in the road. Joggers and pedestrians scattered lest they be mowed down. If the fact that the carriage was hurtling along at breakneck speeds didn't signal trouble, the fact that the horse pulling it was glowing green and leaving a trail of slime in its wake would have indicated that it was currently possessed.

This was bad news for the screaming newlyweds riding in the carriage (the driver appeared to have bailed as soon as the ghost took control of the animal).

Holtzmann hit the trigger of her new trap, caroling cheerfully: " _Forks turned to tasers and streams of neutrinos, weapons that send evil ghosts down the drain oh, swiss army knives and bombs I can fling, these are a few of my favorite things_ …"

Patty dragged her partner out of the way as the carriage barreled down on them, rather afraid Holtzmann would be so fascinated with her field test that she'd let herself get run over watching.

When the horse/ghost passed over the device, Holtzmann hit the trigger. The trap shot out an energy net that encircled the ghost, ripping it from the animal and holding it in place. The horse and the carriage with its passengers passed, unharmed, through the neutrino net.

Of course, the unexpected burst of energy, noise, and flashing lights did nothing to calm the frightened animal. The horse kept running until it disappeared deeper in the park, with the couple still screaming in the carriage.

Holtzmann shrugged at Patty. "They'll be alright. I'm sure Flicka will tire herself out eventually. Look, the neutrino net worked!"

She moved closer to the ghost that writhed amidst the multiple energy beams that coiled around it. The ghost flailed its limbs, attempting to break free, trying to tear at the Ghostbuster. It wasn't a terribly impressive ghost, Holtzmann noted, a Class Two semi-anchored vapor at best. She would have liked to test the neutrino net on a more impressive specimen, but she was satisfied for the moment and proud of her new creation. This successful test meant that the Ghostbusters could potentially forcibly remove a ghost from a possessed person without disintegrating the host.

She and Ray Stantz had worked on the design for the net, based off a similar gadget he had demonstrated for Holtzmann a few weeks ago. She knew he'd be excited to hear it had worked.

"What is the deal with all this activity lately?" She personally hadn't seen her apartment since Thanksgiving. The Ghostbusters had so many calls that they were having to split off into pairs or go on calls alone to cover everything. "I haven't got my shopping done yet. Can't the ghosts at least be considerate and haunt a Macy's or a mall?"

"Or a pizza parlor. I'm starving," Holtzmann agreed as she kneeled to check the readings on the neutrino net, monitoring how long the device could generate a stable energy field. The ghost still attempted to reach its limbs down to strike at her.

"You got any thoughts on what Erin wants for a present? I mean besides for Kevin to win the lead in _Magic Mike_ on Broadway?" Patty asked.

"Erin's not the only one who'd enjoy seeing that."

Their cellphones simultaneously beeped new text messages-another call. "Oh, hell no," Patty grumbled. First, she'd missed church. If they had to go on another call, they were going to miss their own Christmas Eve party. They'd had to leave Kevin in charge of planning the party at the firehouse, so Patty was nervous to find out what he'd come up with. "Do you think some whack-job is charging the ley lines again?"

Holtzmann straightened up. "I dunno. Why don't we ask our friend here?"

She gestured to the yellow ghost that was writhing in the net. The other reason she'd made the neutrino net was in hopes that they could communicate with a ghost while keeping it contained. This guy was pretty gruesome-looking. He looked to Holtzmann like his face melted off when he died. "Hey handsome, what's with the Christmas rush? You guys wanting to see New York for the holiday or you got something cooking we ought to know about? You can tell me. I can keep a secret."

Patty raised her eyebrows at that reminding Holtz: "You just told me what Abby got me for Christmas."

"Yeah, I can't keep a secret at all."

The yellow ghost sneered at the humans. " _Jagannath has come_."

The specter seemed to think that settled the matter. Patty nodded. "Good for him." She looked at Holtzmann. "Who's Jagannath?"

Holtzmann shrugged. "I'll have to hit _Tobin's Spirit Guide_ when we get back to the firehouse-" She remembered they had another page and added. " _If_ we get back to the firehouse anytime this year."

She tossed a trap beneath the yellow ghost. It vanished into a beam of white light. The neutrino net wasn't meant to contain a ghost long-term. It was too awkward to transport a specter with it, plus it used so much power that it drained it would drain its battery in a few minutes.

Something laying on the pavement caught Holtzmann's eye. She kneeled for a closer look, using a handkerchief to pick up the slime-covered object. It was a silver medallion with an emerald green stone at the center.

"What is that?" Patty asked.

Holtzmann scanned the trinket. "Whatever it is, it's pouring off temporal radiation."

"Is that better or worse than regular radiation? And should you be touching it?"

The engineer ignored the questions. She pulled out her cell phone and started dialing.

Erin Gilbert and Abby Yates were in Ecto-1, pursuing three ghosts along the city streets. Abby was in the driver's seat, wondering why Holtzmann enjoyed driving in this city so much. _Maybe because she was as crazy as the other drivers_ , she theorized. Abby's nerves would have been on edge just negotiating the traffic even if she weren't trying to keep an eye on the specters while avoiding a collision. She had to slam on the brakes when a truck ran a red light and cut them off. She shouted an insult to the truck driver before continuing the chase.

One ghost was a blueish-green creature with massive fangs and claws. It (he?) seemed to be leading the other two. When the Ghostbusters had to stop for the truck, the blue ghost used the opportunity to disappear into a mall.

Abby frowned. "Oh, that's great-cause the shopping mall isn't scary enough two days before Christmas _without_ throwing ghosts into the mix."

Her cell phone beeped just as she pulled Ecto-1 into a loading zone. The security guards had already seen the trio of specters and were content to let the Ghostbusters park wherever they wanted so long as the ghost hunters dealt with the invasion. Erin unloaded their gear while Abby answered the phone.

"Holtz? You wrapped up there? We could use a hand at the mall. We got three of 'em loose here."

Holtzmann apologized. "We're going to be delayed a little. Kevin just texted us another sighting. Our ghost buddy in the park mentioned some little goober named Jagannath. Apparently, he's the big ghost in town tonight."

Abby didn't recognize the name. She hoped that meant Jagannath was a minor apparition and not a demigod or something more difficult to contain. "Great, but they aren't wearing name tags. Meet us here as soon as you can and Google 'Jagannath' on the way."

Erin overhead the last bit. "Jagannath?"

"Holtzmann says he's the ghost boss," Abby explained.

Panicked shoppers began to pour out of the mall's various exits and entrances. A few took advantage of the chaos to snatch items off vendors' carts. The security guards were too busy preventing shoppers from being trampled to pursue the shoplifters.

Erin and Abby battled their way against the throng of screaming people to get into the three-story shopping center. Erin headed for the escalator, hoping the higher ground would give them a better vantage point. She paused by one of the stores, momentarily distracted: "Ooh, look—Sharpe's Jewelry. Phil brought me here last year to pick up my Christmas gift. I thought it was going to be an engagement ring. It was a teddy bear with a little box of chocolates. Four pieces. It came free with the diamond tennis bracelet he bought his mother."

"And that explains even more about Phil," Abby said.

They had a better view from the second floor (the challenge was not being knocked over the railing by the fleeing mass of people). Abby clung to a post, waiting for the wave of bodies to pass. "Okay, everyone's acting crazy. How are we supposed to tell who's possessed, who's scared, and who's in a shopping frenzy?"

Erin craned her head to see above the crowd. "Well, I think if they're actually airborne might be possessed." She pointed to a man who was being hauled by his left leg to the top of the mall's two-story Christmas tree. The blue ghost with the fangs gripped the man's ankle like he was lugging a rag doll.

They ran along the walkway, racing to catch up with the ghost and his prisoner. Abby shouted over the screams and the Christmas music that still blared from the speakers: "You got any ideas for rescuing him that don't end with him pancaked in the promenade? Because, I've got nothing!"

The blue specters' two ghost buddies swooped past the women, eager to join in the fun. The ghostly trio begin to toss the hapless man around like a ball, playing keep away from the Ghostbusters.

Erin's stomach knotted. "Oh, that's going to end badly..."

She glanced around the immediate area, from ceiling to the tiled floor below, wracking her brain for a rescue plan. Her gaze fell on the Christmas village at the center of the mall. The ghosts and their captive hovered almost directed above the village, which consisted of an inflatable workshop/bounce house and a garishly adorned recliner that was serving as Santa's throne for photos with the children in the mall.

She pointed to the Christmas village. "Santa's Workshop-it's an inflatable! If we shoot when the ghosts are directly above it, he might have a soft landing…or else he ricochets off the inflatable into the giant aluminum tree and we get sued."

Abby was guessing the odds favored a ricochet. "Nothing like Christmas in New York. I'm going to get too the other side of the mall, maybe we can catch them in a crossfire."

She ran across a catwalk to the opposite side, keeping one eye on the blue ghost and the dangling man. The ghost was almost directly above the inflatable workshop. Abby had to get its attention. She played a hunch. "Hey, Jagannath!"

The blue ghost spied the dark-haired Ghostbuster and bared its fangs at Abby. It dropped the man, who screamed as he plummeted towards the ground. He hit the inflatable-and ricocheted off its roof. He was flung into a pile of empty cardboard gift boxes, but he still managed to get up and run away.

Abby winced. "We're definitely getting sued."

Erin shouted: "How'd you know that one was Jagannath?"

"It had to be one of them. I took a shot."

Jagannath took aim at Abby, bearing down at her with his claws outstretched, screeching: " _Jagannath is supreme_!"

Erin fired, snagging the blue ghost in a proton stream. Jagannath's two sidekicks scattered. One dove into the mall's giant Christmas tree. The other landed on the mall Santa's lap, pinning him while it blathered a list at him in gibberish. Abby couldn't take at shot at either specter without doing serious damage to the tree or Santa. She focused on helping contain the blue ghost first.

"Jagannath is supreme!" the blue ghost writhed, snarling and displaying ts gargantuan teeth.

Abby reached for the trap that hung from her belt. "Okay, buddy, the bar for 'supreme' is here..." She held her hand at the height of her shoulder. "That's for your Gozers and Rowans and Zuuls. You're about here…" She moved her hand down to the height of her knee. "That's the 'awkward peon ghosts' level."

Jagannath roared. It must have been a call for help. The green ghost in the Christmas tree began turning it in circles, spinning it faster and faster. The ornaments began to emanate supernatural light and tore themselves from the branches to fly at the Ghostbusters like tiny missels. Abby and Erin had to let Jagannath go to dive for cover from the projectiles. Next, the strings of garland and lights unwound themselves from the tree to flail at the women like whips.

Erin ducked behind an abandoned cell phone stand. "Will you stop baiting the ghosts?!"

Abby hid behind a pillar. "He needs a realistic self-image!"

They tossed ghost grenades at the tree. The tiny bombs made a spectacular mess: Melted garland, shards of broken ornaments, and a puddle of green slime that had been the ghost rained down on the still-pinned mall Santa. The third ghost abandoned Santa's lap.

"Santa, you might want to run!" Abby shouted down to the man.

Santa gave them the finger before he ran. Erin rolled her eyes. "Bah humbug."

Abby sulked. "Why do people keep doing that?"

"In fairness, we did just blow up the mall Christmas tree," Erin said.

"Still…"

They chased after the two remaining ghosts, trying to cut off their escape routes. Jagannath tossed trash cans, mannequins, and anything else within his psychokinetic reach into the Ghostbusters' path. The ghosts beelined for the towering wooden toy soldiers that stood at the main entrance. The toy soldiers' cheerful faces contorted into twisted scowls and they aimed bayonets (plastic, but still dangers since they were roughly the size of a limousine) at Erin and Abby and advanced. They moved to stand below the walkway and shoved the bayonets upwards, attempting to impale the women.

Erin skidded to a stop as the giant tip of the bayonet exploded directly in her path. "Crap."

Abby shouted at the demon-possessed toys: "Those are antiques! Show some respect!"

By unspoken consensus, Erin and Abby deployed their new toys, dropping two of Holtzmann's neutrino nets from the second story. The devices clattered to the floor, automatically opening upon impact. The nets caught Jagannath's buddy, however as soon as the ghost was torn from the toy, the giant soldier toppled over and smashed the mall's fountain. Jagannath abandoned the other toy solider, which crushed the row of benches beside the fountain.

Abby hoped Agents Hawkins and Rorke had a few hot toddies before they got the bill for damages to the mall. While Erin deployed a trap for the ghost in the neutrino net, Abby raced down the escalator in pursuit of the last ghost. "Watch Jagannath!"

Jagannath knew he was outnumbered. He streaked for the exit, but Abby caught him with a proton stream. "No you don't-I think you just topped Santa's naughty list, buddy."

Erin laid out another trap for Jagannath. She rolled her eyes at her partner, and Abby shrugged. "What? One of us had to say it."

Jagannath vanished with an outraged shriek into the ghost trap just as the Homeland Security agents finally arrived on the scene, surveying the mess.

Agent Hawkins spotted the Ghostbusters. He gestured to the destruction. "What the hell did you do?"

Abby retorted: "Where were you guys? We told you three hours ago that we needed back up. Did you stop to do your Christmas shopping?"

Erin shoved the smoking trap into Abby's hands. "Speaking of which, there's a Sports Authority at the other end of the mall that's open. I need to go grab something for the party tonight." She ran off, hoping that there was a cashier hiding somewhere in the store who could help her.

Holtzmann and Patty were only a couple of steps behind the Homeland Security agents. Holtzmann pulled out her cell phone and snapped a picture of the topped toy soldiers and the slime-soaked remains of the mall's Christmas tree. "Wow. They weren't kidding about how crazy the last-minute shopping gets."

"You found us," Abby greeted them.

Patty nodded. "We followed the trail of screaming shoppers."

Abby raised an eyebrow at Hawkins and Rorke, "See, they stopped to catch two other ghosts and still got here at the same time as you. I'm just saying-did you stop for lunch or what?" Forgetting their useless handlers, Abby filled in the other Ghostbusters. "We caught your Jagannath. Hopefully that's the end of the Christmas ghost rush."

"We haven't found anything about Jagannath online, but I think we figured out how he started the ghost parade. Ever seen one of these?" Holtzmann pulled the weird medallion from her pocket for Abby to see.

Abby hadn't seen anything like it. "Didn't Lady Gaga wear this to the Grammys last year? I have no idea what this is."

Rorke was walking over to them. Holtzmann pocketed the medallion before he saw it and confiscated it. He was pointing a finger at them. "These repairs are coming out of your budget. We did not authorize actions at a mall full of civilians!"

Holtzmann stuck out her bottom lip. "Aww, does this mean we don't get our crappy Homeland Security coffee mugs for Christmas?"

"Just tell me this is the last of them?" He indicated the collection of smoking ghost traps.

Abby shrugged. "What do you want me to say? 'I think' or 'I hope'?"

Rorke shook his head and stormed away.

Patty made a face at the back of his head. "Merry Christmas to you too, grumpy little elf."

GBGBGBGBGBGB

There was smoke pouring from the open garage doors when Ecto-1 pulled up to the firehouse that was the Ghostbusters' headquarters. Erin's first reaction was to ask: "Is there a fire? Holtz, did you leave one of your experiments running?"

Holtzmann parked at the curb instead of pulling into the garage. "No…well, yes…I'm not responsible for the giant candle, either." She grinned at the ten-foot tall plastic candle set up at the garage's entrance. It beamed light bright as searchlights at passing pedestrians and motorists. "Kevin's decorated for the party or he's trying to signal the mothership."

Abby had been checking the Delta airlines website with her cell phone. "Good news: I can stay for the party after all. Jagannath's little trip to the mall made me miss the last flight to California." She was supposed to fly to Long Beach to meet her cousins for a Christmas cruise to Mexico, her family's favorite Yuletide traditions. Ironically, she would need an airplane to get to the airport in time to make her flight.

Patty climbed out of the passenger seat, waving smoke away from her face as she walked into the firehouse. "I'm sorry you missed your trip, Abby. Not to be insensitive about that, but can we get this party going? I'd still like to catch the eight o'clock church service before I head to my uncle's house."

"Yep. Let me put these ugly bugs to bed first." Holtzmann had a half-dozen traps from their jobs that day. The ghosts needed to be catalogued and emptied into the containment unit.

The smoke turned out to be a barbeque fashioned from a rusted old metal barrel. The large grill was loaded down with chicken breasts, sausages, and skewers of steak and vegetables. There was a tub full of freshly cooked pulled pork. A folding table had been set up in the middle of the garage. A blue tarp was serving as a tablecloth. Plates of potatoes, green bean casserole, and dinner rolls were waiting. Chinet plates and plastic utensils in Christmas colors completed the table settings.

Kevin stood by the grill, decked out in a festive green apron that read "Fleece Navidad" above a picture of a sheep wearing a Santa hat. He waved in greeting.

"There you are! Thought I was going to have to eat all this myself. So, what do you think?" He gestured eagerly to the decorations.

In addition to the oversize candle in the doorway (which made it impossible to close the rollup doors, so the cold air blew right into the garage), the firehouse was adorned from top to bottom in Christmas lights, a fully decorated Christmas pine tree, ferns, purple flowers, and palm branches. A small stack of presents was waiting under the tree.

"Kevin! Nice job buddy." Abby was genuinely impressed. Leaving the party in his hands while they answered all the calls had been a scary prospect. "Um…one question: Ferns? And-?" She tried to identify the purple flowers.

"Bellflowers. I get a bit homesick this time of year. I like to do a traditional celebration like my mum and dad used to do," Kevin explained. If he were back home in Australia, he and his brothers would be hitting the beach to surf on Christmas morning before gathering for a family dinner with their parents. They'd taken turns being in charge of the meal each year. He'd always liked to barbeque when his turn came around. "Hope everyone's hungry."

Patty marveled a bit about just how much food he'd cooked. She would still be expected to eat when she got to her uncle's house. "You know we don't have to feed the ghosts, right? It's just the five of us."

Erin flashed a smile at Kevin. "I could eat."

Kevin was oblivious to the flirting, but pleased by her answer. "Oh-and it's six of use for dinner. Holtz, you're mum's upstairs." He used his spatula to gesture towards the staircase.

Holtzmann froze, mid-stride. "Which one? The passive-aggressive sub-psychotic one or the crazy one?"

He could never keep track of the names of Holtzmann's mothers since finding out she had at least two foster moms in addition to the birth mother with whom she'd recently reunited, so Kevin appreciated that she had phrased the question that way. "The nice one."

She exhaled, relieved. For a second, she thought one of her foster mothers had tracked down her new address. "Ah. Janine. Good."

Holtzmann had invited her birth mother to spend the weekend with her, since their last attempt to spend 'quality time' together had been majorly screwed up by a malevolent demigod. It was fortunate that Janine had worked for the original Ghostbusters; a little thing like nearly being killed in an apocalyptic spectral invasion might have deterred the average mom from accepting any more invitations from their Ghostbuster off-spring.

She retreated to her corner on the first floor to unload the traps. The other Ghostbusters dropped off their gear while Kevin dished out the food.

Janine comes downstairs, breathing in the aroma of barbeque treats. "Something smells good."

"I can feel my arteries clogging already." Abby pulled out the chair at the head of the table and offered it to their guest. "Hey, Janine. Holtzmann is in the lab. I'm glad you're here-we'll need help eating all this."

Patty stopped to collect the gifts from beneath the tree and started passing them out before anyone had taken one bite of food. "Yes, please. Presents. Church. Family dinner. Tick-tock. Let's go."

She passed Abby a box wrapped in tin foil and duct tape. "Aww..thanks, Holtz!"

Holtzmann blinked at her from behind the stack of ghost traps on her worktable. "How'd you know it was from me?"

"Leave the ghost rock and come eat!" Patty ordered her.

"Aw-right…" Holtzmann left the medallion on her work table and joined them. She greeted her mom with a hug before sitting down in the chair next to Janine's.

Abby tugged at the thick grey tape before giving up and using Erin's pocketknife to-very carefully—unwrap her gift. It was a piece of paper. More specifically: "It's a plane ticket…to Long Beach."

"I had a feeling work might mess up your plans," Holtzmann grinned, impressed by her own anticipation of Abby's plight.

Abby was still perplexed. "Holtz, this is nice, but I had a ticket already, and I still missed my flight."

"Actually, you can't miss that flight. It's a charter jet. I had the Men in Black set it up."

"How'd you get Rorke to agree to that?" Abby felt a thrill of hope for her Christmas vacation.

Holtzmann winked: "Blackmail. He shot me, remember?" Beside her, Janine made a soft noise in the back of her throat and blanched a bit.

 _Like Abby was going to forget that whole Voga Ra'El business_. "Bla-you know what, I don't need the details. Thank you."

Her friend's grin was pure evil. "Just tell Cousin Barbra hello for me."

"I will not."

Janine was afraid to ask: "Jillian, what did you do to Cousin Barbie?"

Holtzmann shrugged. "I just tasered her a little bit with a turkey fork and a battery." Cousin Barbie had been rude to Abby. She was lucky Holtzmann had settled for lightly tasering her.

"Jillian!" Janine rubbed her eyes, ears turning red.

Abby nodded. "It's true. She still pees a little when she smells turkey."

Holtzmann laughed mid-swallow, coughing around a mouthful of apple cider. "I shouldn't be proud of that…but I really am."

" _Jillian_!" her mom repeated.

Erin interrupted. "Okay, people are getting ready to eat. Maybe we don't talk about peeing." She saw Holtzmann about to say something and added: "Or anything else that can be produced or secreted by humans or ghosts."

Kevin presented Holtzmann with a rolled-up t-shirt tied with a green bow. "This is from me."

Holtzmann removed the ribbon and unrolled the t-shirt. A small wooden object rolled out of the cloth. It turned out to be a very weird totem or may some kind of tiki. She was reluctant to ask, so she leaned to whisper to Erin: "Is this the cursed Hawaiian tiki that tried to kill the _Brady Bunch_?"

"Don't be silly-" Erin began, until she had a look at the odd object. "-but, maybe you shouldn't take it into the lab, just to be safe."

Kevin caught a glimpse of the object. He scratched his head. "Um…awkward…actually, the totem is mine." Giving Holtzmann an apologetic look, he took it back. "Mum sent it from home. I forgot I wrapped it in the shirt so it wouldn't break if it fell off my motorcycle. The shirt's your present."

"I've never been this relieved to get a shirt for Christmas." Holtzmann took a look at the shirt. As it happened, the artwork on the shirt was more unsettling than the totem. It either depicted some kind of demonic sacrifice or it was an inkblot Rorschach might have created while completely drunk. "You did the art yourself, didn't you, Kevin?"

Kevin nodded proudly "I'm going to sell them at a little stand out in front of the firehouse. You get the very first one. You like it?"

She grinned. "Actually, I do."

She showed the shirt to Janine, who let out an involuntary yelp and recoiled a bit. Janine managed to squeak out: "Lovely."

"My turn!" Erin handed Kevin a large present that turned out to be a snowboard she'd purchased from the shell-shocked cashier at the Sports Authority store that afternoon.

Kevin gazed at it in awe. "Ooh-nice!"

Patty and Abby exchanged looks. "And probably not much over our ten-dollar gift limit." Patty's sarcasm was wasted on Kevin.

Erin protested. "Abby got a plane!"

"Technically, I didn't pay for the plane, so I'm still under the ten-dollar limit," Holtzmann reminded Erin.

"Well, Kevin's going snowboarding with his friends for Christmas. I thought this would be nice for him." Erin wouldn't apologize for wanting to do something nice for their receptionist. He'd been working hard that year-learning the name of their company, learning how to use the "hold" button on the phone without disconnecting the caller, mastering the pager system…the workload never stopped.

"I'd have gone with a helmet…and not just to wear on the ski trip, buddy." Abby said. "And on that note, I stuck to the ten-dollar limit, so this will probably be a huge let down." She handed a gift to Patty.

Patty put on her best show of enthusiasm. "Hey, it's a DVD. Scottish castles. Great!"

Abby grinned at her. "I know you love history."

"Very thoughtful. Thank you, Abby." Patty thanked her, kicking Holtzmann under the table before the blonde made any 'Highlander' jokes. Patty passed a small box to Erin.

Erin made a show of enthusiasm. "Uh-oh. Looks like jewelry. What did you get me-" Inside was a pair of very large hoop earrings. Erin's eyes widened, imagining herself tipping over backwards under the weight of the large pieces. She fumbled for a polite response. "These are lovely, but…um…my ears aren't pierced."

Patty had noticed that a long time ago. "Way ahead of you. My niece, Lola, has you booked to pierce your ears next Tuesday. She's so gentle, you'll only feel the needle for a couple seconds."

Erin's smile faltered just a bit. "Fantastic."

"Speaking of family, I got to get to church in time to light a candle for Jo Rita. She's babysitting all the kids at Christmas Eve eve dinner tonight." Patty got up from the table. "I gotta go. Want to share a cab, Abby?"

Abby stood. "Sure." Patty went outside to flag down a taxi while Abby hugged Janine. "I feel bad you two are spending Christmas here." Holtzmann had volunteered to be on call for the holiday weekend, since she was the only one (at the time) who didn't have plans to travel or be at family gatherings for Christmas.

Erin felt kind of bad about that also. Holtzmann had only just met her birth mother a few weeks ago, and one thing after another had interfered with them getting any chance to spend time together. "You know, I'm not leaving for Buffalo until tomorrow. I could hang here until then if you and Holtzmann want to do something else tonight?"

Janine shook her head. "We'll be fine. Believe me-it's not my first Christmas at the firehouse. As long as I get to visit with my daughter, I'm happy." As an afterthought, she added: "But maybe we can move the giant candle inside so that we can close the door?" Janine was already shivering from the cold air blowing into the firehouse.

Patty reappeared in the doorway. "Abby! I got a cab"

She and Abby hugged everyone else good-bye. "Holtz, Janine, don't forget we're expecting to see you at dinner tomorrow night!" Patty reminded them on her way out the door.

Janine stared at her plate, which was still half full. The food was delicious. She was going to have to get the recipes for Peter, Ray, and Winston. However, she was going to split in two if she at another bite. "Kevin, this is very good. I don't think I can eat any more…"

Erin reached for Janine's plate. "I'll take it."

Holtzmann swatted Erin's hands away and moved the plates and dishes out of Erin's reach. She wasn't in the mood to watch Erin eat herself sick and then spend the evening with her at the hospital while she puked or got her stomach pumped just because she wanted to impress Kevin. "The way to a man's heart is through _his_ stomach, Erin. Didn't we talk about that at Thanksgiving?"

Erin blushed. "I don't know what you mean." Kevin started gathering up the leftovers and headed to the kitchen area. She followed. "I'll help you with that."

Janine started to stand up. "I can help, too…"

Holtzmann waved her off. "Trust me, you don't want seats for that show."

She headed back into her lab area, to the stack of ghost traps and the strange medallion that still beckoned for her attention. Janine sighed, but followed her daughter, pulling up a rickety chair.

Janine indicated Erin and Kevin. The red-head was helping him wash dishes, standing a little closer to him than necessary. "You mean…a little office romance? Is that a good idea?" Janine asked.

Holtzmann raised an eyebrow. Her mother had told her the story of how she and Jillian's father, Egon, had met. "Really?"

Janine blushed. "Okay, fair enough."

"I've got the whole weekend planned out." Holtzmann chatted while she proceeded to empty the traps into the containment unit. Janine recalled many evenings watching Egon doing the same thing. "I saw lots of good e-waste in the mall dumpsters. If we get there before the trash trucks, I can stock up on spare parts for the next year. I want to upgrade the containment units. And I'm dying to field test the multi-spectrum visors out at the abandoned mental hospital in Jersey…"

She noticed the expression on Janine's face. It was somewhere between befuddled and frightened. Holtzmann backpedaled. "…or we can do what normal people do on Christmas. What do normal people do on Christmas?" She sincerely didn't know. Most of her Christmases growing up either involved soup kitchens or small fires and angry foster parents.

"Oh…all those things. And maybe ice skating or baking cookies?"

Holtzmann considered that. "I love baking."

Janine was surprised. Her Christmases as a child involved the family gathering in the kitchen to bake cookies by the dozens. Janine and her sisters inevitably wound up in some kind of food fight before the day was over, and her mother always had to keep extra ingredients on hand because the first batch of chocolate chip cookie dough was devoured before ever reaching the oven. It was the kind of homey, domestic Christmas activity that Janine wouldn't have guessed her daughter would enjoy. _Maybe there were some bits of Janine's DNA mixed in there with Egon's science-y nature._ "You do?"

"Combining the correct chemical components in proper proportions; applying a heat source to achieve a precise result. Basic science. What's not to love?"

 _Or maybe not._ "I…never thought about it that way."

Erin called from the door. "Guys! We're heading out! Merry Christmas!" she and Kevin waved good-bye before venturing outside, Erin uttering a surprised oath at how the temperature had dropped.

Janine gazed over the various bits of machinery scattered across the laboratory table. Her gaze came to rest on a framed picture that had been added to the desk since her last visit to the firehouse. It was the picture of Egon, Janine and baby Jillian that Janine had given her daughter. It had a place of honor in the only uncluttered corner of the table.

"What are you working on?"

Holtzmann used her proton fork to point to a gizmo that Janine thought looked like a Slinky on a bell. "Neutrino net. I based it off Ray's anti-possession tech. We had our first successful field test today. Also-this." She pointed to the weird medallion with the emerald stone laying in a metal tray on the table.

"Lady Gaga collection?" Janine joked

"I know, right?" Holtzmann put the medallion around her neck, checking her reflection in the shiny tray. She decided to leave the chunky jewelry to Patty; she couldn't pull it off. "What do you think? I think this thing is how Jagannath let all his buddies out to play. I just have no idea what it is or how it works."

Janine raised an eyebrow nervously. "Maybe it's not a good idea to wear it, then? Considering what happened with the last ghost rock we found…"

Holtzmann didn't hear that last bit. She was already moving to the bookshelf, pulling out a ragged copy of _Tobin's Spirit Guide._ She thumbed through the yellow pages with one hand while keying up Google on her computer. She thought the writing on the medallion looked like Sanskrit. If she could translate a few words, she should be able to identify the stone and its purpose.

Janine sighed again. She was learning quickly that tearing Jillian away from her gadgets and gizmos was only slightly less difficult than it had been trying to pry Egon away from his work. _It was a miracle she'd ever held his attention long enough to conceive their daughter in the first place…_

She took a shot at it anyway: "Since you all opened your gifts, I did bring you something." Janine went to the Christmas tree and grabbed the box she'd placed there earlier.

"Good. I have something for you, too." Holtzmann rifled through her desk until she found another box wrapped in foil. She presented the box to Janine with a grin. "Abby said moms like handmade gifts. Merry Christmas!"

Janine tried to hide her apprehension. "Handmade" with Jillian and Egon could mean anything from a misshapen clay coffee mug to a small nuclear device. She opened it cautiously.

It was another odd machine that was-well, it was small rubber tubes glued to a bellman's bell as far as Janine could tell. "It's…interesting." She turned it every which way, trying to discern its purpose. Finally, she set it on the table. "Okay, I give up. What is it?"

Holtzmann wrinkled her nose as though the answer should be obvious. "It's a digital antenna. You could pick up satellite channels in Tokyo with that bad boy. It's slightly radioactive, so just make sure to turn it off when you aren't using it just to limit your exposure." She watched Janine try to fake joy a few seconds before she finally had to laugh. "I'm just messing with you. It's a paperweight. I got you an appointment at that day spa you like."

Janine made a small noise of relief. "Oh, thank God…" Holtzmann reached to put the paperweight away, but Janine snatched it away. "Nope. I'm keeping that." _It was her first present from her daughter, after all._

"Okay, so what'd you bring me?" Jillian did sound for all the world like an eager kid waiting for Santa's present.

Janine handed her the small box, somewhat shyly. She wasn't sure if her daughter would like her gift, but she hoped so. She prayed so.

Holtzmann ripped the paper off with one swipe of her hand. Inside the box was an SDHD card, shaped and painted to look like robot dog. To her credit, her eager grin didn't falter for one second. "An SDHD card? Awesome! I can use this for the proton-"

Janine wrapped her hands over Jillian's, trying to get a word in edgewise. "Wait! I need to explain about the chip." She took a deep breath and blurted: "It's from your father."

"What?!" Startled, Holtzmann nearly dropped the chip.

"He made some video messages for you the last few weeks before he passed away," Janine said. "I gave them to the Holtzmanns when they adopted you, but I guess the tapes were lost after the accident. I still had copies, so I asked Ray and Winston to transfer them into the computer. There are also old news stories about him that I scanned from the newspapers and magazines. Egon wanted you to have them."

Holtzmann was completely at a loss. She'd looked up her father on the Internet. There were video clips of interviews he'd done back in his days with the original Ghostbusters. His old papers from various scientific publications were still available. They all painted a picture of his academic side and scientific prowess…but offered no insight to Egon Spengler as a person. She'd read every scrap of information she could find on him and didn't know him any better for her efforts.

This was a personal message.

From her dad.

Jillian wanted to know the things any child wanted to know about a parent: _Did he have a favorite color? What kind of music did he like? Did he ever dance when he was tackling a particularly stubborn problem like reducing the F-noise in the proton accelerators or deciding what toppings to get on his pizza? What was his favorite acid?_

 _Would he have liked her? Did they have anything in common besides the mind for science?_

Jillian's blank stare was making Janine uneasy. _Maybe Christmas hadn't been the time to spring this on her daughter._ Janine was beginning to think her timing really did stink. "Jillian?"

Holtzmann coughed a noise that sounded like loose bolts in a garbage disposal. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. Alarmed, Janine jumped to her feet, circling around the table. "Jillian-?"

"It's-thank you."

Janine apologized, "I shouldn't have done this on Christmas. I thought you'd like to know—"

"No—yes. It's okay." Jillian cleared her throat again, feeling herself starting to lose her self-control. She hated getting emotional. It made her feel vulnerable, and she hated feeling vulnerable more than she hated actually crying. Her fist closed around the chip, gripping tightly. Holtzmann looked around for a tissue, but Erin didn't let her keep Kleenex or paper towels around her work station anymore, not with her tendency to set things on fire. "I wasn't expecting anything like this…I could really use a tissue…"

Janine nodded. "Okay, where are they?"

Holtzmann gestured in the general direction of the staircase. "Bathroom. Upstairs." _Weren't moms supposed to keep packs of Kleenex in their purses or something? Or was that candy?_ Jillian wasn't a mom, she didn't know the rules. She didn't even own a purse, just her backpack and her duffel bag.

Janine ran upstairs, leaving Holtzmann with the chip.

She pulled her iPad from her desk and plugged in the chip…but Holtzmann's finger hesitated over the power button. The computer was already filled with the video clips and files she'd downloaded, plus pictures of her father that Janine and the Ghostbusters had copied for her. She didn't know if she was ready to handle the personal messages.

 _When she was alone maybe. Alone with two or three beers in her would be better still._

Groaning, she tossed the iPad aside, pocketed the SDHC chip and leaned against the worktable, head in her hands.

It wasn't the same. Holtzmann knew it. She couldn't ask a recording the questions she'd wondered about since childhood. A recording could say "I love you", but it wasn't going to hug her. It wasn't going to stand side-by-side with her into the wee hours of the morning dreaming up new gear for busting ghosts. A recording wasn't going to make midnight runs to the Basket Robbins with her when Jillian had a craving for fudge ripple ice cream with M&Ms on top.

A recording wasn't the same as having her father there, in person, or having one day with him. Just one day. Maybe two. Holtzmann was thrilled that she had the chance to reunite with her mother, but she wished that she could have the same chance to meet her father. She wished she was spending Christmas with him.

She'd barely formed those thoughts when two things happened.

First, she was assailed by a wave of dizziness, so intense she nearly toppled from her chair. Holtzmann closed her eyes as her vision blurred and the world seemed to suddenly spin.

Second, the lights went out, plunging the firehouse into blackness save for the pale rays of moonlight through the windows.


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

 **The Hot Zone**

Holtzmann cursed the sudden power outage, "No, no, no…" She had installed generators for the building specifically in case of blackouts, and they hadn't kicked on. Something was wrong. In another two minutes, the containment unit would start blaring its alarm (despite her joke with Dr. Gorin that "safety lights were for dudes", the alarm really did serve a purpose-it's purpose was to warn the occupants of the building that a power outage would cause a reaction that ultimately would lead to an explosion of psychokinetic energy generated by the trapped ghosts, so they'd best turn the power on or run for their lives before the blast took down the building).

 _Not good._

The lab might appear cluttered to the untrained eye, but Holtzmann knew the location of every gadget and tool. She reached into the third drawer on the right side of her desk and groped blindly for her flashlight, but it was missing. _Kevin probably took it to do shadow puppets again_.

She paused, noticing something else strange. The drawer was almost empty. It should have been full of a precisely-organized assortment of flashlights, headlamps, and pen lights. All her hands could feel was…dirt? Broken bits of cement? She cleaned her lab religiously (dirt contaminated experiments. She might not clean her house, but her work area was another matter). She yelped when a bent piece of metal sliced her finger and withdrew her hand. It was too dark to see her hand in front of her face (literally), but she felt a trickle of blood from the cut.

Holtzmann shouted to the other occupant of the firehouse: "Mom! Stay put! I gotta get the generator going before the containment unit fails! But, be ready to leave the building in a hurry if I say, okay?"

There was no answer.

Holtzmann made her way towards the emergency exit the led out into the alley. She tripped over something and nearly fell. Groping around blindly, her hand brushed what felt like a broken board. Where did that come from? Stepping over that, she tripped over a pile of bricks.

 _What was going on? Had she blacked out after that dizzy spell? Had the containment unit really exploded and she had been unconscious? Was she unconscious now and this was a dream? Had Kevin put something funky in the barbeque sauce? It felt real. Was this some hallucination?_ The doctor said she was fully recovered from that concussion, but…seriously, what the hell?!

She finally found the door.

It was locked. Why was it locked?

She fumbled in her coverall pockets for her key. The door refused to budge, and Holtzmann had to give it a good shove to finally wrestle it open…only to find it had been chained on the outside.

If this was some kind of elaborate prank by Abby (or a revenge prank by Erin for all the tricks Holtzmann had played on her), Holtzmann was going to be…well, she was going to be very impressed. She made her way back into the dark firehouse, stumbling over debris that littered the floor, and searched for her crowbar.

Her lab was wrecked.

The shelves full of her equipment were toppled, twisted…and she could swear they felt melted. She caught her hand twice more on sharp pieces of metal. Brick and wooden beams had fallen into a pile taller than Holtzmann almost at the center of her workspace as if…

…as if the roof had collapsed. Holtzmann looked up at the ceiling.

She saw only stars through the giant hole where the roof should have been.

 _No, no, no…this was impossible. Her brain couldn't form any logical theory to explain how half the building could come down around her in the blink of an eye, in the time it took for the lights to go out. What the fuck was going on?!_

Her first thought was that if something had taken out the roof, it would certainly have taken the second floor with it-the second floor where Janine had gone searching for tissue. "Mom? _Mom_!?" she yelled. Again, there was no answer.

Fighting down the urge to panic, Holtzmann groped around the overturned shelves and through the rubble until she finally found a flashlight. She shined it towards the staircase. It was there; it was in shambles and probably not safe, but it was there. Another sweep with the light revealed what she knew: the lab was in shambles, including the containment units. Not only in shambles, but covered in thick layers of dirt. She'd left tracks like snow every place she'd walked and handprints every place that she'd touched. The cubbies with the Ghostbusters' uniforms…weren't there at all. It was a melted closet with burned up lab coats. A metal panel with one of her favored radioactive symbols (a heart at the center instead of a red dot) glinted in the light.

The room had been taped off with yellow and black tape that read: DANGER.

Warning signs (with normal radioactive symbols that did not have little hearts at the center) had been posted all around the room, basically advising that the whole building was a radioactive hot zone and Holtzmann would be wise to get herself out of there as quickly as possible.

Holtzmann moved as fast as she could over the wreckage and picked her way up the broken staircase, nearly falling through missing steps. "Mom?"

There was nothing upstairs but more wreckage. The bunks were gone; Abby and Erin's work stations were gone. The kitchen was there, but the appliances (melted though they were now) were obviously nicer than anything the Ghostbusters had owned. There was no sign of Janine, not even a footprint in the dirt to indicate that she'd ever been there.

"Didn't think so," Holtzmann muttered to herself.

She pulled out her cellphone. The numbers were still programmed there. On a hunch, she started hitting the names one-by-one.

Janine's number was "not in service". Ditto for all the Ghostbusters. Holtzmann wasn't surprised. She'd used up all her surprise and panic. On a whim, she pressed Ray's number.

" _This is Stantz. Leave a message."_

"Uncle Ray? It's Hol-Jillian. Is mom with you? Um…listen, I'm at the firehouse. I am having a serious _Twilight Zone_ moment. If you can come down here and help me figure out what the hell is going on, I'll buy you a beer. I was sitting at the table one minute and-"

 _She was wearing the ghost medallion_ , Holtzmann suddenly remembered. Her hand flew to her neck. The medallion was gone. It must have fallen off while she was fumbling around the mess downstairs. Hanging up the phone, she turned to head back to the staircase.

…and a ghost popped out of the broken fridge, staring right at her.

Holtzmann let out an involuntary cry and stumbled backwards. She was weaponless. _Shit_.

The ghost looked the little green bastard that had stolen Ecto-1 back when the Ghostbusters were fighting Rowan North and his "Fourth Cataclysm". _How the heck did it get back on this side of the barrier_? The slimey green apparition advanced, staring at her with those large yellow eyes of his. She backed away, not daring to take her eyes off it.

She tripped over a protruding piece of floorboard and fell on her backside. Slimer took the opportunity to float until he was nose-to-nose with her Holtzmann cringed: U _gh-he smells like rotten food and rotten flesh…_

Staring in fascination, Slimer extended a fat, gooey finger and touched her…more precisely, he poked his finger through her forehead, leaving slime dripping down her face.

Holtzmann glared, "Okay, hands off, buddy!"

The ghost gave her a wide, yellow-toothed grin and cried happily: "Jil-lan!"

"What did you say?" It was garbled, but it was definitely her name.

She was wrong…she still had some ability to be surprised left after all.

Then, the damn ghost laughed (it sounded like a laugh to Holtzmann, anyway). He moved forward like he was going to hug her, but instead passed right through her body, leaving her covered with slime. _So, this is how Erin feels every time the ghosts ecto-projected onto her_. Holtzmann wiped the good from her eyes.

The little potato-shaped specter floated right out through the exterior wall, still babbling her name excitedly.

GBGBGBGBGBGB

" _Uncle Ray? It's Hol-Jillian. Is mom with you? Um…listen, I'm at the firehouse. I am having a serious Twilight Zone moment. If you can come down here and help me figure out what the hell is going on, I'll buy you a beer. I was sitting at the table one minute and-"_

Ray Stantz dropped his phone.

It clattered noisily onto his worktable, coming to rest among the engine parts, circuit boards, wires, and tools. Cursing, he retrieved it. _Old message. It had to be an old message._ Ray hit the 'replay' button.

" _Message received December 23, 2016 at 6:05 p.m…."_

Ray frowned. Mentally, he listed the possible explanations for what he'd just heard.

He didn't like any of them.

If someone was playing a joke, Ray was going to personally track them down and, if they were lucky, he wouldn't break any of their bones.

If it wasn't a joke-he felt a surge of dread over the implications.

Ray pulled a burner phone from his desk and thumbed a number he'd memorized. When the prompt for a text message popped onto the screen, he typed one word: _Firehouse._

A few seconds later, the familiar Ghostbusters logo briefly appeared on his screen in answer.

He took a hammer and smashed the burner phone, sweeping the pieces into the garbage can.

"Raymond? Is everything okay?"

Naturally, his actions had caught the attention of the trio seated at the kitchen table in the warehouse. They'd been absorbed in a game of cards until the sound of the hammer had distracted them. Three worried sets of eyes stared at Ray now, awaiting an explanation.

He forced a shrug. "Telemarketer."

Egon Spengler raised an eyebrow, clearly in doubt but accepting his friend's word. Winston Zeddemore snapped his fingers to return his friend's attention to the poker game. "C'mon, Egon, are you in or what?"

"I am," Egon answered.

Janine Spengler tossed her cards onto the table. Her husband never stayed in the game unless he was holding at least three of a kind. The only player who was worse at bluffing was Ray. "I'm out," she said.

They forgot about the odd phone call. Neither did they notice that Ray anxiously watched his cell phone as he resumed his work on Ecto-1's carburetor.

GBGBGBGBGBGBGB

Holtzmann clamored down the stairs as fast as she dared and followed the ghost to the front door. It was bolted and chained. She searched for an ax and broke out the boards that covered the windows so she could climb out.

The streets were all but deserted. Holtzmann noticed that the surrounding buildings had power, but not many lights were on. What illumination there was seemed to come from trash can fires in the alleys as homeless men and women tried to keep warm on the December evening.

The surrounding buildings had damage as well. Whatever blast had taken out the top floors of the firehouse had obviously affected the nearby structures. The buildings adjacent to the firehouse had the same flyers posted that declared the area a radioactive hot zone.

Slimer was floating down the street, still babbling happily: "Jil-lan! Jil-lan!"

She chased the ghost for several blocks. "Hey, wait!"

Finally, it circled around, spreading his arms for another "hug". Holtzmann shook her head, "Oh no…."

Seconds later, she was coated in a second layer of slime. "Ugh, that's never washing out."

Slimer cackled. "Jil-lan! Jil-lan!"

He glided up into the sky, floating in lazy, joyful loops.

Holtzmann sighed. Clearly, trying to get answers from the little booger was going to get her nowhere. She glanced around, getting her bearings. It looked like the radioactive zone only extended a few blocks. This section of New York City was a slight improvement-it could be described as a 'slum', which was an improvement over 'fallout zone'. At least, there were more signs of life here. A few people walked down the streets, cars passed by, and a few shops were actually open.

Slimer bobbed down at a cart where a vendor sold hot pretzels and devoured his inventory. The man produced a baseball bat and swung uselessly at the apparition.

The ghost's antics drew the attention of the people on the street. When the ghost flew to Holtzmann and dropped a slime-soaked pretzel into her hands, the pedestrians noticed the blonde woman for the first time.

There were gasps. All activity came to a stop as passer-bys began to gather, staring at her with wide-eyes. Some looked fearful…some looked of hostile. They whispered to each other. Some of them pointed to her Ghostuster uniform.

Holtzmann was instantly on edge. Her hand instinctively reached for the proton wand that wasn't there. "Yeah…" She patted her slime-soaked coveralls, trying to defuse the tension with a joke. "It was one helluva sneeze. Anyone got a tissue? No?"

"Jil-lan!" Slimer called to her, floating lazily overhead. She threw the pretzel at him, wishing the damn thing would shut up.

Gasps from the crowd turned to anxious whispers and more hateful, fearful glares cast in Holtzmann's direction. She heard a few distinct words:

"It's her."

"How can it be her?"

"She brought the ghost."

"Are there more?"

"How'd she get here?"

"It _is_ her. It's Spengler."

"That's not possible."

 _Spengler_? Holtzmann blinked.

The crowd was growing more agitated with every comment and question they exchanged.

A Latina woman runs over and grabbed Holtzmann's arm, urging her to start walking. "I'm on your side, baby, but you can't be here! It's not safe!"

Holtzmann had already figured that out. She hurried her step, wishing that a police car would appear and wondering if ducking into one of the mom and pop stores that lined the street would save her if the crowd started getting violent. She doubted it.

A man in a leather jacket pulled a phone from his pocket. "I'm calling the S.D.A.," he told his girlfriend.

The kindly Latina woman gave him the finger. "Why would you do that?!" She pushed Holtzmann now. "Seriously, girl, you need to run…."

The man returned the woman's rude gesture. "I don't want the S.D.A. on my ass!"

Another man, a burly body-builder type, was taking off his coat. "Screw them! She's a hero. Spengler, sign my bicep!" He held up his bare arm and flexed a muscle, hoping to impress Holtzmann.

The rude man's girlfriend heard sirens in the distance. "I do not want to get caught with her. Do a citizen's arrest!" she urged her boyfriend.

A man with a head shaved bald jumped into the debate. "Let's see if she's real. Maybe she's a ghost, too." He picked up a beer bottle.

"Girl, _run_!" the Latina woman stepped between Holtzmann and the mob.

Holtzmann turned away, which she decided was the wrong move when something struck her in the back between her shoulder. The object fell at her feet. It was someone's shoe.

She glared at the mob. "Really?!"

The sirens were getting closer. Holtzmann just had to keep them from killing her before the police arrived. Some of the crowd ran away, not wanting trouble with the cops. The skinhead was relentless. He hefted the beer bottle and threw it at Holtzmann. She ducked out of its path.

Lunging, he grabbed her arm. Holtzmann did not like to be manhandled that way. Her foster dad had grabbed her that after she accidentally set her bed on fire…right before he smacked her in the head.

Holtzmann groped through her pockets for anything to use as a weapon and came up with one of her ghost grenades. It wouldn't hurt humans but it would hopefully scare the crap out of the mob long enough for her to escape. She set it off, and the crowd scattered.

Unfortunately, when they realized they weren't dead, they were that much angrier. She didn't get much of a head start before they were on her tail again.

She ran down the street towards the sirens. Passing motorists swerved and had collisions seeing her as she ran by. The chaos was drawing more attention as she moved into more densely populated streets. People joined in the chase, some without even knowing why the mob was pursuing the blonde woman.

Holtzmann heard a whistle and reflexively looked over her shoulder; the skinhead pitched another bottle that struck her in the temple.

She saw stars. Holtzmann had a horrible déjà vu of the ghost of Arthur Klein upending the furniture and shelves in her apartment, cornering her in her bathroom, and knocking her unconscious with the toilet lid. She distantly knew she was falling. Her limbs suddenly would not work, and her knees gave way. She felt something running down her face (beer or blood, she didn't know which).

Holtzmann hit the sidewalk with a bone-jarring thud, idly noting the pieces of brown glass at her feet. She saw people swarming around her—above her—reaching to drag her up…

…then there was an inhuman screech.

And another. And another.

The mob let go her, looking up at something in the sky. Holtzmann couldn't turn her head to see what they were staring at. Fuzzily, she noticed glowing green and blue blobs flying in circles. The glowing blobs charging the crowd, chasing them away from her.

 _Ghosts_ , her brain supplied the word. Dozens of them. The ghosts were forming a ring around Holtzmann, a barrier between her and her attackers.

 _Protecting her_?

Slimer was suddenly there, staring mournfully at her. _Worried_? "Jil-lan?" He sniffed at the bloody wound. Grunting a noise akin to a growl, the ghost whirled and angrily doused the mob with bombs of slime. They threw rocks and bottles, which passed uselessly through the specter.

A third ghost-sickly yellow with a tiny head, long neck, and rotund body- shrieked as it circled the mod, emitting a cloud of fog that reeked of sulfur. The noxious substance sent Holtzmann's attacker reeling, covering their faces against the acrid odor.

A blue ghost floated into Holtz's fading vision. She knew him, but her brain was shutting down and wouldn't identify him.

" _Jagannath is friend_ ," the blue ghost told her. Then, he snarled at her assailants, slashing with his considerable talons and fangs and forcing them to flee. " _Protect Honored One_!"

The other ghosts fell in behind him, poised for another attack from the mob.

The sirens were very close now. Before she lost consciousness, Holtzmann saw several black SUV's pull up to the sidewalk. The ghosts glanced from the crowd to the imposing vehicles and finally back at Holtzmann, and then reluctantly headed for the sky.

The last thing she saw was proton beams streak through the sky, narrowly missing the ghosts.

GBGBGBGBGBGBGB

The black SUVs rolled up on a mob scene.

It was typical December in New York. The combination of the holidays and the normal stress of city life made the people volatile. Throw in a few ghosts and- _well, shit like this happened_ , Patty Tolan supposed. This section of New York City had been dubbed 'the Hot Zone' due to the radioactive fallout that still made it just short of safe to inhabit (the government would not consider removing the warnings or condoning occupation of that five-block area for at least another five years).

 _These people shouldn't be in this area_ , Patty frowned. It was pretty sad that the homeless people preferred to risk live in a radioactive area to keep from being harassed. The rest look like teenagers, who liked to sneak in the hot zone for kicks. It looked like there were a few passing motorists who had stopped to join in, maybe some out-of-towners, conspiracy theorists and gawkers who just wanted to see the infamous firehouse. Patty counted about a dozen people gathered in tight knot, shouting and searching for items to use as weapons. Something had them all agitated. The way they were gathered, she knew things could escalate into a riot if the situation wasn't not contained right then and there.

 _Obviously, the half-dozen ghosts who appeared to be attacking wasn't helping with the mood of the crowd._

She got out of the vehicle, drawing her proton pistol and authoritatively: "All right—clear a path! S.D.A.!"

At the arrival of the authorities, the glowing blobs suddenly streaked for the sky. She squeezed off a shot with her pistol, just to warn off the spirits. Her concern that night was not busting ghosts. Her attention was on the crowd and whatever-or whoever—was at the center of the commotion. A few of the civilians stopped their attack and ran at her shout. The more stubborn of them decided to do what damage they could to their prey before the authorities physically stopped them. Between the tightly-packed bodies, Patty could see one person on the ground, unmoving. That was enough to piss her off.

She thumbed her Bluetooth earpiece, connecting to the main office: "This is Agent Tolan, confirming multiple specters on site. There is a civilian down. Send a med team." She waved a hand at the crowd, flashing her badge. "You all need to move your asses out of the way! About three blocks that way! Go!"

Agents Hawkins and Rorke fell in beside her, adding their warnings to hers when the crowd failed to obey Tolan's instructions. They fired their weapons—called 'safe weapons' (Patty considered that an oxymoron) because they were designed not to hurt humans, only ghosts-at the fleeing specters.

She doesn't know why the crowd wouldn't move, but she was losing her patience. Clearly, the ghosts had hurt someone, but these idiots were preventing the agents from helping. _Why_? Patty guessed the injured person on the ground had to be some kind of ghost-hugger. The anti-ghost mentality was so pervasive nowadays that just being seen in the company of a specter could get a person killed.

The opposite could also be true: Ghost-huggers could do some damage to a person who made sport of using illegal weapons to dispatch a specter. They frequently picketed the S.D.A. headquarters and the field offices, lobbied the state and federal government for laws to protect the specters, and broke into warehouses where anti-spectral weapons were stored.

It didn't matter. Patty had to help whoever was on the ground. Taking a closer look, Patty could see the injured person was a blonde woman. Blood matted her hair on the right side of her head. _No wonder she'd pissed off the crowd, it looked like she was wearing some kind of anti-ghost logo on the sleeve of her coveralls. The ghost-huggers would not have a sense of humor about that kind of thing._

Hwkins and Rorke physically dragged a few of the uncooperative aggressors away, which discouraged others in the mob. Though most of the ghosts had scattered, a couple hesitated like they didn't want to give up their unconscious prize.

A blue one bared sharp fangs at Patty as she approached. "Protect Honored One!"

Patty paused. _What is that supposed to mean? Who's the 'Honored One'?_

Then a civilian threw a brick, luckily missing the woman. The blue ghost snapped at that man, nearly biting his arm off. Patty tackled him, putting her knee between his shoulder blades as she cuffed him. "Are you crazy? You're going to hit her, not the ghost!"

"Good!" He spat at the unconscious woman before Hawkins could grab him and haul him to one of the SUVs.

"Get these people back!" Patty ordered.

She stared down the blue ghost. It wasn't moving, in fact it licked its lip as if to say it would happily take a bite out of Patty next. "Look, I don't know about your 'honored one', but your ass is going to be a tiny blue puddle of slime in ten seconds if you don't get away from that woman _now_." She aimed her proton pistol at the apparition.

The ghost balked, looking at the fallen woman. " _Protect Honored One_."

Patty finally understood. The crowd had been throwing things at the woman, not the ghosts. The crowd had caused her injury. _Was this ghost protecting that girl? Ghosts didn't do that. Did they_?

Rorke and Hawkins pointed their weapons at the blue ghost. Patty gestured for them to stand down. "Wait!"

Hawkins raised an eyebrow. "Agent Tolan…"

"It's not going to hurt her."

Patty holstered her weapon and slowly approached, lifting her hands to show the ghost that she meant no harm. "You didn't do this. I get it. I just want to help her. Is that okay with you?"

The ghost hovered, but backed off a bit, granting her access.

Patty knelt by the unconscious woman, still keeping one eye on the ghost in case it changed its mind. When she starts to roll the woman over, the specter uttered a warning hiss. Rorke took that as a sign of aggression and fired at it. The ghost fled.

"Rorke, you idiot!" Patty yelled.

"What is your problem, Agent Tolan?" he challenged.

Patty flipped him off, but returned her attention to the injured woman. "Ma'am, if you can hear me, I'm Agent Tolan with Homeland Security, Spectral Defense Division. Medical help is on the way…"

While she spoke, she patted the woman's pockets, searching for a wallet or some form of identification. It was a fairly elaborate costume, Patty noted, maybe meant to be an off-shoot of the old Ghostbuster uniforms. It came complete with burns and she'd even doused herself with slime for good measure. _Cosplay people sure knew how to commit…_

Then, she found something that closely resembled a proton grenade…one that was clearly not a Cosplay mock-up. _Where did she get her hands on this? Maybe she wasn't play acting. Maybe she fancied herself an actual Ghostbuster and had broken into one of the S.D.A. storehouses._ "Okay, ma'am, I'm just going to take this. If you have any more weapons on you, please don't melt my face off or blow me up or anything."

The woman groaned and turns her head towards the voice, moving enough that Patty could finally see her face.

Patty felt the urge to throw up. "Oh, damn…" _This is impossible. No wonder the mob tried to kill her_. Scrambling, she fished a handkerchief from her pocket and used it to staunch the flow of blood from the woman's head wound, mumbling reassurances. "…you'll be okay. Hang on." She keyed her headset. "Dispatch-where the hell is my ambulance?!"

"Three minutes out," was the calm reply.

"Get them here! Now!

She gestured to Rorke, directing him to the lingering crowd. "Secure the area! I want those civilians at least four blocks back. Then call the Deputy Director and tell her to get her ass back from Martha's Vineyard."

Hawkins hovered over Patty. "Who is it?"

"It's Jillian Spengler."

GBGBGBGBGBGBGB

 _Rowan North was pondering the city that morning. It was December 23_ _rd_ _, Christmas Eve eve. The holiday lights cast such a warm glow on the rats and the garbage (of the literal type and the human kind). Beautiful displays in the store were meant to lull the citizens into a warm, buying stupor. "Last Chance" and "Deep Discount" and other signs counterbalanced the calm stupor and whipped procrastinators into a last-minute buying frenzy of excessive, unwise spending. The psychology of it all was fascinating._

 _He supposed the basic idea of giving a bauble to show affection for the important people in one's life started out innocuously, before society and greedy merchants perverted it into this manifestation of mankind's underlying gluttony and self-preoccupation. Rowan's father had sat the boy at his knee when Rowan was only four and methodically explained the preposterous myth of Santa Claus and flying reindeer, of a covert toy factor in the harsh arctic climate, and the pointed fact that his family lacked the financial means to waste their money on piles of flimsy plastic toys and bags of sugary treats. From that Christmas forward, the holiday morning was heralded by a stocking stuffed with a new bow tie, tangerines, books, and other practical items._

 _Young Rowan had mourned at first, until he slowly began to understand his father's point. While the neighborhood children frittered away their time with bikes (and inevitable crashes and scraped knees) or playing empty video games, Rowan sharpened his mind._

 _Still…_

 _Adult Rowan was sometimes forced to comply with social convention. This was one such occasion. Still, he detested the idea of spending his hard-earned cash to line the pockets of department store billionaires. He instead perused the wares of the sidewalk merchants._

 _A man with a suitcase of vintage, museum-looking wares (and, not surprisingly, wearing dark shades and a baseball cap, the better to hide one's identity while procuring said museum-looking wares) had caught Rowan's attention. He watched with palpable impatience as the scientist made a selection._

 _Finally, the vendor spoke: "It's all good, man."_

 _Rowan flashed him a cheerful smile. "Yes, very impressive. All legitimately acquired, I'm sure. Do you know why I'm purchasing from you rather than these monuments to human greed?" He gestured to the department stores. "Because we are cut from a similar fabric, my friend. We each attempt to earn a living on the fringes of society while the world slogs along in its stupor of self-absorption."_

" _Umm…you buying something or what?" the man demanded._

 _Rowan blinked. He'd had more stimulating chats with petri dishes of fungus. "Indeed." He picked up a large silver medallion that seemed to depict a celestial scene. A green stone was inlaid at its center. "Would you happen to remember which museum is missing this piece?"_

" _I told you, my stuff is legit."_

" _Then you can tell me what this item is?" Rowan pressed him._

 _The vendor made a face. "It's a necklace."_

 _Rowan stared, unimpressed._

" _Look at it-it has a picture of the solar system. Ten bucks or put it down and go away." The man didn't appreciate feeling stupid._

 _Rowan pursed his lips. "That is not the solar system. But, if for no other reason that your complete lack of appreciation for this piece, I'll pay you five dollars."_

" _Done. Just go. You're creeping out my other customers."_

 _Rowan paid the man and pocketed the trinket. "Yuletide greetings, my friend."_

 _The man, Rowan decided as he made his way down the street, was as unworthy of Rowan's time-or of living-as the rest of humanity._

GBGBGBGBGBGB

 _Abby Yates couldn't afford to go on the Yates' family annual holiday cruise to Ensenada, but that was fine. Her father would puke for the entire cruise, and her mother would spend all her money in the on-board day spas. Her passive-aggressive cousin Barbara would drop hints about Weight Watchers and gym memberships while Abby waited to see if all the Botox injections finally made Barbie's face explode._

 _All things considered, Abby was better off-financially and mentally-spending her Christmas holiday in her laboratory at the Higgins Institute. Her assistant had decorated the room with strings of Edison lights and a shoe tree with "ornaments" of tools, tape, bolts, washers, and tiny flashlights. An old cassette player on her worktable cranked out music._

 _Of course, spending Christmas alone in the lab would probably depress Abby if she dwelled on the idea too long._

 _Then, she heard the click of a key in the door lock and changed her mind. Being alone in the lab would be preferable._

 _Her lab assistant breezed into the room, and Abby hid her cringe. If Rowan weren't a brilliant engineer-or if anyone else at all had applied for the job-she would never have hired him. The man was simply too creepy (even for a woman who pursued ghosts for a living)._

 _Rowan breezed into the laboratory, greeting her with a cheerful: "Abigail! I hope you approve of the decorations?"_

 _Abby managed a smile. There was no reason to hurt his feelings. She appreciated creativity (and it wasn't like they had money to buy lights and a real tree). It was her place as the employer to be encouraging and supportive. "Very nice. You stayed last night and did this?"_

 _Rowan gave a slight bow in confirmation._

" _Well, that was…thoughtful."_

" _Social convention." He shrugged off his coat and hung it on a nail in the corner, swapping it for a lab coat._

" _Fine work." Abby turned her attention back to the old motorcycle helmet that she was fitting with wires and sensors, hoping it would one day prove to enhance telepathic abilities. "And you tweaked your centrifuge?"_

 _Rowan was pleased. "I'd hoped you'd notice." He picked up the round device and moved to her table to show her. "I had this idea that placing these reactors at strategic points along the city's ley lines might ionize any spectral entities-force them to visually manifest."_

" _Yes, yes…it might. Here's my concern: It might also start to supercharge the ley lines."_

 _Rowan nodded brightly, pleased. She was indeed a person of above average intellect._

 _Abby sat at her work table, fidgeting with an acetylene torch. "That might have the side effect of-I don't know-weakening the spectral barrier? I'm not sure we want to be responsible for opening a ghost floodgate."_

 _Rowan leaned against the table. "Abigail, may I make an observation?" He was irked, but trying very hard to be patient with her. Abby was kinder than most people Rowan had encountered in his life. She had given him a job otherwise he'd be waiting tables or assisting the technologically inept as an Apple Store "genius" or a member of the Geek Squad. Worse still, he might have taken that maintenance man job at the Hotel Mercado._

" _Please."_

" _You've been trying since childhood to prove what you and I both know to be true: The spectral plane is very real. But, tell me-have you found one single shred of evidence to prove your genius to the world? No. You, like me, are mocked for your insight. Your genuine insights are spurned by the narrow-minded who cling to their simplified preconceptions of the world, trusting only the evidence of their senses. It's the visionaries who change the world…but they don't do it by being safe, Abigail. Socrates, Marie Curie, Rhazes, Servetus…they pursued their convictions…"_

" _They died, too," Abby pointed out._

" _You don't deserve their scorn." He picked up Abby's book, pointing at Erin's picture. "We don't deserve the scorn of our peers, people we trusted, or the whole of humankind. You and I are the only ones who fully appreciate each other's intellect. I believe in you. I can help you prove yourself to the world if you will believe in me."_

" _And that's some real outside of the box thinking. I'm proud of you, Rowan. That's why I hired you." Abby took another stab at being supportive…if only because Rowan was between her and the door if she needed to do something like run for her life. "I'm just not sure I want to start the Apocalypse to prove a point to the world. Maybe we can put a pin in the charging the ley lines idea until we get the PKE meters up and running and do some field tests? If we can't prove the existence of ghosts after that, we can talk about ionizing ghosts."_

 _Rowan seethed, but kept his expression carefully neutral. Her timidity disappointed him. "I suppose you're right, Abigail."_

 _Abby smiled brightly. "And, you know what? It's Christmas Eve eve. We shouldn't be talking shop. Here. I got you something." She disappeared behind her plastic shower curtain and re-emerged with a present._

 _He was surprised. No one had given him a present since…well, he didn't remember when, unless the Christmas wedgies in high school could be counted as 'gifts'. "For me?"_

" _Of course. Just to show you that I appreciate your work."_

 _His work. Hmm. This day promised to be a disappointment on many levels. "Indeed. Thank you."_

 _Abby perched on her desk, grinning eagerly. "Open it."_

 _He did. It's a pen and calculator._

 _Rowan nodded. "How practical. Again. Thank you."_

" _You don't like it?"_

" _On the contrary, I will put it to good use." Rowan tucked it into the breast pocket of his lab coat. "In the tradition of the day, I also purchased an item for you."_

 _His thought briefly of the necklace, which he'd intended to give her after expressing his affection. But, since she simply missed his point…_

 _Abigail and he were kindred souls, bullied and spurned for their genius. Rowan knew this, but she didn't seem to understand if she had no genuine appreciation for his work after two years of working together. They would be already discussing strategic points on the ley lines if she did._

 _Instead, she was giving him the same nervous, disapproving stare as anyone else Rowan mistakenly trusted._

 _He went instead to his desk and retrieved a small tool set he'd purchased for use in the lab. He handed it to her, leaving it in its paper bag. "I apologize. I had no time to wrap it. I just wanted to give you a token of my esteem. I almost gave up on science before you brought me here. You've changed my life in ways you will never imagine."_

 _Abby was so freaking relieved it wasn't jewelry that she didn't care if was wrapped or that it was tools. "This is going to come in very handy. Thank you. Merry Christmas."_

" _Yuletide Greetings, Abigail."_

" _Merry Christmas, Rowan. Now, let's see what we can do with that PKE meter…"_

" _Indeed."_

GBGBGBGBGBGB

Director Erin Gilbert was in a foul mood by the time her driver pulled the sedan into the parking garage of the Homeland Security field office in New York City. All she'd been told when the phone call interrupted her family weekend was that Agent Patricia Tolan was waiting to brief her on a matter of highest priority. Her fiancé, Phil, had taken the opportunity to heap guilt upon Erin for leaving him stuck with the duty of entertaining their relatives. Her mother had congratulated her for her dedication to her career and reminded her that she still had a few years to have children and, if not, there was always adoption.

Fifteen minutes, mood soured in every way, she'd been bundled into a small commuter plane at a tiny private airfield and taken off in a snowstorm for New York. The perpetual fear that they'd fly into the side of a building in the blinding snow or that the engines might fail in the arctic storm sufficiently distracted her from sulking over passive-aggressive relatives, though it did little to improve her mood.

In the section of the field office reserved for the Spectral Defense Agency, Erin was directed to Sublevel DX-4, which housed the medical unit and research laboratories. Agent Tolan was waiting for her at the entrance to the medical wing.

She looked nervous, Erin noticed. One would expect composure from an agent accustomed to dealing with the paranormal.

"Agent Tolan, I just left twenty-three relatives and an unhappy fiancé to fly to New York," Erin said in greeting. She placed her thumb on the keypad for the doors. There was a click and the doors slid open. Patty led the way past the rows of exam rooms while Erin lectured. "I didn't see any cataclysms or trans-dimensional cross rips on my way here. Unless whatever ghost you've found is farting cupcakes and made of gold dust, I'll be issuing a reprimand-"

Hawkins and Rorke guarded an exam room at the very end of the hallway. Patty stopped before the two-way mirror to the room, inviting Erin to take a look at what was happening inside. She couldn't resist commenting: "In about ten seconds, that dainty foot of yours is going to be leaving little high heel prints on your tongue."

Patty didn't much care if Director Gilbert fired her or not, so she had no compunctions about expressing her honest opinions.

Erin was about to follow through on her threat-until she looked through the two-way mirror out of sheer morbid curiosity. When she saw who was laying on the gurney in the med room, her mouth dropped open.

Patty smirked, wishing she had her cell phone camera to capture the moment.

Erin breathed, "That's not possible."

"Oh, it's her, all right. DNA tests confirmed it."

" _Not possible_! She's dead. Not just dead…" Erin was doing mental somersaults, her brain rejecting what her eyes were telling her. She simply could not be seeing what she was seeing. "…every atom in her body would have been ripped apart and disintegrated. She _can't_ be alive. We saw her die."

Patty wasn't sure if the Director was talking to her or just thinking out loud (or was maybe having a tiny seizure as the logic circuits in her brain had a meltdown). Whatever it was, she didn't need to be reminded of that night by Erin. The night the firehouse had exploded, taking one of her precious few close friends with it, was permanently etched into her memory. She relived it in her nightmares.

"No, we saw a big old explosion underneath a-what did you all call it? A trans-dimensional cross-rip? You got a lot of first-hand experience with dimensional portals to say that cross rip couldn't have saved her from the blast? Cause there she is." Patty pointed to the blonde woman on the other side of the glass.

Erin would not tolerate being lectured about physics by a subordinate who lacked a single scientific credential other than a distant connection to the former Ghostbusters. If Erin could prove a connection between the Ghostbusters and the ghost-huggers that deviled the S.D.A., she would have gladly fired Patty as a security threat.

She had to settle for rebuking the field officer. "Leave the physics to the scientists, _Agent_ Tolan. I want a complete press blackout on this…"

"Already done. And the spectral barriers around the building are running just in case her ghost buddies try to come rescue her. One of the ghosts was calling her the 'honored one'," Patty informed her.

"Well, that would make sense, wouldn't it?" Erin snapped. "Double the number of guards at every entrance and exit…"

Then, Erin noticed which doctor was examining Spengler. "Sonuvabitch! What's Dr. Yates doing in there?!" She rushed to key open the door.

Patty defended Abby. "She's checking-"

Erin whirled on her. "What were you thinking?! Obviously, you weren't thinking. Dr. Yates is not to have access to this prisoner, am I clear?" The lock beeped, and Erin slammed open the door.

Patty scowled at her. "Clear-"

Satisfied that she'd made her point, Erin left her, descending upon Dr. Yates and the unconscious prisoner on the gurney.

"-you soul-killing she-beast sucking the joy out of every minute of my damn life," Patty added. She caught Rorke's eye and jutted her chin in the direction of the Director and the doctor. "You might want to go in there in case Abby finally stabs her in the throat with one of them big ol' needles."

Rorke decided Patty was right and ducked into the room.

GBGBGBGBGBGB

"The goggles took the brunt of the impact from the bottle. She's lucky she was wearing them; they kept glass shards from getting into her eyes. She has a small laceration on her temple, but no sign of a concussion."

Abby managed to keep her tone clinical as she dictated into the microphone that was clipped to the collar of her lab coat. The intern who watched her treating their patient's injuries would not see the tremble of Abby's hands as she cleaned and bandaged the bloody scalp wound. When she laid her hand briefly on the sleeping woman's forehead, it would appear the casual gesture of a doctor passing comfort to a patient.

Or so Abby hoped. Her mouth was on autopilot, reporting whatever readouts popped up on the medical scanners and reciting whatever test results were handed to her by lab technicians. After one such technician had passed her a paper that informed her the patient's DNA positively identified her as Jillian Spengler, Abby's brain had completely shut down.

 _This was Jillian…college roommate Jillian…lab partner Jillian…best friend Jillian…_

… _dead Jillian._

 _How could she be here?_

Abby had studied the case files of the Ghostbusters as a child. She grew up playing ghost hunters with her friends. She and Erin had sneaked into abandoned hospitals and old warehouses where teenagers had no business playing on such hunts. They'd taken a stab at recreating the PKE meters and other gear used by the Ghostbusters with limited success. M.I.T. offered the best program in Paranormal Physics, so Abby had enrolled there. She'd memorized _Tobin's Spirit Guide._ She and Erin had penned " _Ghosts from Our Past_ ", which was required reading for every Paranormal Studies program at every college in the nation. Her mantra to every intern she worked with at the Spectral Defense Agency was simple: "With the paranormal, nothing is impossible."

None of it had prepared her to see a trans-dimensional cross rip form above New York City or to glance across its barrier at the multi-verses on the other side. It had been horrifying and breathtaking…until it had torn Abby's friend from her life.

None of it had prepared her to see a gurney roll into her med center bearing her friend back from the dead not as a ghost (thank God) but in the flesh, heart beating and lungs breathing. Abby felt like she no longer understood one thing about the paranormal.

"Dr. Yates?"

Abby didn't realize she'd fallen silent until Benny the intern tapped her shoulder. She withdrew her hand from Jillian's forehead, mentally kicking herself for the lapse. "I think she passed out due to shock from temporal displacement. I took a scan and she's doused with temporal radiation."

Erin was suddenly standing on the opposite side of the gurney. "Thank you and good-bye, Dr. Yates. This is a conflict of interest. You need to excuse yourself from this case."

"Erin, I'm just trying to help—"

The Director was unimpressed. Under other circumstances, Erin would have trusted Dr. Yates scientific perspective on any matter concerning the paranormal. But not this time. She knew Abby too well. Her emotions would overshadow her judgement. Abby was seeing her friend, miraculously reincarnated. She would not see the more sinister possibilities-that this could be a shapeshifter or some other kind of dopple-ganger (which would explain the DNA results). Gozer or Voga Ra'El or some other demigod could have pulled Jillian Spengler from that cataclysm to become a host body for their next invasion of Earth.

Erin had to consider those possibilities. If Spengler's reappearance was preamble to another Apocalyptic event, Erin would have to take all necessary actions to prevent it. That's why she was in the Director's chair-because she could make the hard decisions. Abby would be too soft-hearted. Not only did Erin not want her interference, she didn't want Abby deceived by this imposter. She didn't want Abby to relive her grief and loss. After all, they had been friends once.

"Now, Dr. Yates, or I'll have Agents Tolan and Rorke escort you out of the building," Erin was firm. She snatched the clipboard from Abby's hand to prove she wasn't kidding.

Abby stared back as if she were seriously debating ripping Erin's arm off. Through gritted teeth, she grunted, "Ma'am."

She glanced at Jillian hesitantly, stepped away from the gurney. On her way out, Abby gave the finger to Erin's back.

"You realize I can see your reflection in the monitors, right?" Erin asked her.

"Good." Abby gave her the finger with the other hand, too, and smiled before she left the room.

Erin beckoned for Benny to take Abby's place and passed him the clipboard. When he frowned at the scientific jargon on the printouts, Erin sighed and took the clipboard back. "Is Ms. Spengler in any danger if you wake her?"

Benny scratched his head indecisively. "I think…no?"

"Wake her up."

The intern shrugged, reaches down, and shook the patient's shoulder. "Ma'am, wake up!"

Erin blinked at him, wondering how the hell this man had passed the S.D.A. screening process. Was he some senators kid or something? She'd have to check. "Seven years of medical school teach you that, Benny?"

He shrugged again. Erin shooed him away.

Spengler- _or whoever the hell she was, whatever the hell she was_ —was stirring. "Ma'am? Hello? Can you hear me? I'm Director Erin Gilbert of the Spectral Defense Agency. I need to ask you some questions."

Holtzmann opened her eyes to the glare of a spotlight in her eyes. Her hand automatically felt for her glasses, which had disappeared while she was unconscious. She squinted against the light. _Where was she_? The last thing she remembered was being chased by an angry mob.

She saw a familiar face staring down at her. "Erin?"

Erin faltered at the familiarity underlying the word.

Holtzmann craned her neck to glance around the room, wincing when her aching head protested the movement. Her right arm wouldn't move. That turned out to be due to the handcuff that was securing her wrist to the rails of a hospital gurney.

"Aw, crap, not again…" She recognized the room. This was the med center in the Homeland Security field office. She remembered this place. Automatically, her unfettered left hand went to her chest, feeling the front of her shirt above her heart. _No bullet hole this time. That's good._

 _But, how did she get there?_

She had no intention of hanging around this place. She was sick of hospitals. Holtzmann reached to pull a bobby pin out of her hair and started picking the handcuff lock.

Seeing this, Agents Rorke and Tolan entered the room, reaching for their weapons.

Erin shook her head at them. It wasn't time for force…not yet. "You know where you are, Dr. Spengler?"

"Sub-level four of Homeland Security—special holding area for prisoners deemed category DX-4. Really tired of waking up in this place." Holtzmann answered, concentrating on the lock.

The answer surprised Erin. _How did she know about Level DX-4?_

Holtzmann spared her friend a quick glance, finally figuring out what was weird about her. "Erin-why are you blonde?"

"Excuse me?"

' _I'm Director Erin Gilbert of the Spectral Defense Agency'_ , Erin had said. So, the whole business with the demolished firehouse and the angry mob wasn't some sort of hallucination. Holtzmann was really stuck in some kind of parallel or alternate timeline…which was all the more reason to get out of this Homeland Security holding area and get back to finding that ghost medallion. She'd have to play along for now. "Spectral Defense Agency? Is that what you call Ghostbusters in this universe?"

Erin latched on to that last word. "This universe? Are you saying you're from a different universe?"

"I narrowed it down to hallucination or parallel timeline. Alternate universe. I'm just not sure how I fell through the door to the _Twilight Zone_. 'Director'? Good for you."

"Thank you." Erin grabbed the hairpin out of her hand before she succeeded in picking the lock. "Dr. Spengler, I'll need you to leave those cuffs on and stay on the gurney for now."

Holtzmann batted her eyes at Erin. "Whatever you have in mind, I'm going to need dinner and a lot of sweet talk first, _Director_."

That sufficiently flustered Erin for a second. She could swear she heard snickering on the other side of the two-way mirror. _This woman was certainly as cheeky as the real Dr. Spengler._ "So, you remember what happened to you?"

"I was having Christmas Eve with my mom. The lights went out. I went to check the generator…and I was here in Wonderland."

Erin had heard something that interested her, though she tried to be casual when she asked: "Where is your mother now?"

Holtzmann's good-humor vanished in an instant. She didn't care for how 'Director Erin' had asked that question. "Back in my universe wondering where I am, probably. Now, I have questions: Why is everyone calling me 'Spengler'? Why were those ghosts acting like my own personal flying monkeys-not that I couldn't roll with that-and why are you blonde? It's not to impress Kevin, is it?"

Blushing bright red, and positive now that she heard laughter from at least one agent in the hallway, Erin asked Benny, "Will an injection of sodium pentothal hurt her?"

"Does it matter?" Benny countered.

"Not really. Proceed."

Holtzmann watched the injection, frowning at Benny when it took him three tries to find her vein. She'd been given enough shots during her various hospital stays that she could have done the job better. How messed up was this universe if Benny had a medical degree? "Erin…you can ask me anything. You know that."

Erin accepted the offer. "Fine. State your name for the record. Your _real_ name."

"Dr. Jillian Marie Holtzmann."

"'Holtzmann'? So, you're saying that you are _not_ Doctor Jillian Spengler?"

Holtzmann smiled at her like she was being ridiculous. This sodium pentothal stuff wasn't so bad. It's rather a nice buzz in combination with the blow to the head. "Not 'Spengler'…technically, yes. Same DNA. I told you I'm from a different universe."

Erin chuckled. "You're correct about that. All right, Dr. _Holtzmann_ : How did you survive the explosion of the Trans-Dimensional Portal Generator?"

"Is that what blew up the firehouse?" Holtzmann asked.

"You know very well it was. How did you survive?"

"I wasn't there…dif-"

Erin knew what she was going to say. "Different universe, that's right, I forgot. You're a time traveler-"

"Trans-Dimensional traveler."

"Supposing I believe that you really came from an alternate universe, Dr. Holtzmann. You must surely have a theory how that happened?"

She had a feeling she shouldn't give 'Director' Erin that information. Blonde Erin was definitely not to be trusted. Holtzmann would have guessed as much even if Erin hadn't handcuffed her to a gurney and shot her full of truth serum.

Erin saw the twitch of Holtzmann's jaw. She pounced on that slip. "So, you _do_ have a theory? You said I could ask you anything, so please share."

Holtzmann bit her tongue against the truth serum, trying very hard to keep that to herself. "Hate you blonde," she mumbled.

Erin ignored that. "I'm waiting, Dr. Holtzmann. How did you cross into this timeline?"

"Fuck yourself, _Director_."

 _That was progress_ , Erin thought. _She'd hit a nerve_. _A little more of that, and the imposter was bound to let a vital bit of information slip._ Her gaze traveled to the shredded coveralls lying on the chair beside Holtzmann's gurney and the logo on its sleeve. Erin knew what it represented, obviously, but she asked: "What does the logo on your sleeve mean, Dr. Holtzmann?"

"I'm a Ghostbuster."

"So, you're admitting to treason? How many ghosts have you helped escape from this facility?"

"This facility? None."

"Other facilities then?"

Holtzmann stared at the ceiling. "Ghostbusters don't rescue ghosts," she pointed out.

"I'll play along. How many ghosts did you 'bust' in your universe, Dr. Holtzmann?"

Holtzmann honestly didn't know the answer to that question. "Lost count during the Fourth Cataclysm. Fifty or sixty maybe."

Erin was surprised at the mention of the Fourth Cataclysm. A psychopath named Rowan North had been planning an attack by that name a few months earlier. Agent Tolan had received a tip from the receptionist at the Hotel Mercado about the plot. Tolan had arrested North for conspiracy. None of this information had been made public.

"How many other Ghostbusters are working with you?" Erin asked.

"Three."

"Names?"

Holtzmann would have loved to tell her…but she had no idea where Patty or Abby were in this dimension. Were they evil government goombahs like Erin? If being a Ghostbuster was 'treason' in this universe, were Abby and Patty fugitives? She wouldn't put them in danger. She'd chew her damn arm off and bludgeon Director Gilbert with it should that be the only way to protect her friends. "Alvin, Simon, and Theodore."

Erin accused Benny: "Did you gave her the proper dosage of sodium pentothal?"

"It doesn't work the same on everyone, Director," Benny answered.

"You might have mentioned that sooner." Erin repeated her question to the prisoner. "What are the names of the Ghostbusters?"

Holtzmann glanced sidelong at Erin. The director didn't notice her left hand balling into a fist.

"Names," Erin demanded.

The answer was so quiet, Erin nearly missed it.

"I'm sorry," Holtzmann said.

Erin was confused. "Sorry-?"

"I hate you blonde." With that, Holtzmann's left fist lashed out and struck Director Gilbert squarely in the nose. She had to really remind herself that this was Evil Blonde Nazi Erin and not her dear friend Erin. It didn't make her feel any better.

Erin was sent reeling. Blood gushed from her nose.

Agents Tolan and Rorke rushed into the room. Tolan grabbed Holtzmann's free arm before she could take another swing at Erin. Patty worked to hold in a laugh as she did so.

Erin glares at the agents. "One restraint? Really?!" Benny tried to help with her nose; she took the towel that he offered but batted his hands away. Erin looked at Patty. "Where was Dr. Holtzmann found?"

"Just outside the Hot Zone, about five blocks from the accident site," Patty answered.

"Take a team and search that area…start at the firehouse." It was a hunch, Erin knew, but she trusted it.

"Are we looking for something specific?" Rorke wanted to know.

"Temporal radiation to indicate a point of origin. And anything not coated in five years of dust. Keep me informed. Doctor Holtzmann is well enough to move to a holding cell. Agent Tolan, if you would." She gestures for Patty to take Holtzmann away.

Still half-loopy from the effects of the drug and the headache from her injury, Holtzmann still greeted the familiar face with a smile as Patty started unlocking the handcuffs. "Patty?"

Patty returned the greeting, "Dr. Holtzmann." The woman was too unsteady on her feet to walk, so Tolan guided her into a wheelchair.

Holtzmann sulked. "Blonde Erin is a bitch."

Patty nodded, whispering back: "Tell me about it."

Abby was waiting to come back into the room, trying to mask her distress as Patty and Rorke led Jillian away.

With them out of the room, Abby starts tending to Erin's smashed nose. "This is not possible, right? I mean, she's-"

"- _not_ Jillian Spengler back from the dead, no," Erin said firmly.

Erin forced herself to remain composed, though she felt anything but calm. After Abby had bandaged her nose, Erin rummaged through the box of items that the agents had found on Holtzmann.

The grenade was of particular interest. Erin studied it. _She may not be Jillian Spengler, but, Holtzmann definitely had Spengler's knack for weapon's design._ Erin fished out the woman's wallet and driver's license. It read: "Dr. Jillian Holtzmann". Obviously, that was a fake identity.

"I want an absolute press blackout on this whole incident until we figure out why she's impersonating Dr. Spengler and what to do about it." Erin told Abby. "I don't want to have to worry about is who is going to tear down this facility to get to her first: A pack of ghost huggers thinking she's Jillian Spengler come back to life...or a lynch mob thinking she's Jillian Spengler back from the dead. There'll be mass hysteria if word about her gets out. Absolutely no one goes into the cell without my explicit permission. Understood?"

Abby was still looking quite petulant. Erin stared her down, trying to assess whether she had another potential problem brewing with this one. "Understood, Dr. Yates?"

"Of course, Director," Abby said.

"Good. Are you finished?" Erin was already pulling out her phone. She had to call Senator Gorin before the woman found out through the bureaucratic grapevine and called her.

GBGBGBGBGBGB

Patty Tolan had excused herself to make a pit stop at the ladies' room while Rorke and Hawkins brought the SUV around to the front of the building. It was one of few places in the building that Tolan could be certain there were no hidden cameras. Ducking into one of the stalls, she pulled a pager from her pocket.

She only needed to key a few buttons for the device to send out a message that would appear to be white noise to any surveillance equipment that might pick up the signal. It needed the matching pager (which was currently resting on a work table full of engine parts) to decode the message. Should unfriendly eyes see the message, it's meaning would be difficult to decipher.

She debated sending the full message. This was going to be a shock to them if she didn't warn them what to expect. However, she knew that they'd be skeptical, regardless of how much they knew about the paranormal. Tolan barely believed it herself and she was seeing it with her own eyes. If they thought this was a hoax or an S.D.A. trap, they'd pull up roots and disappear and it would be months or years before she could regain their trust. No, it was better to keep the instructions simple.

" _Bad karma—Dr. Holtzmann_ "

Seconds later, a familiar logo of a ghost in a circle of red briefly flashes on the screen of Patty's device in answer.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I still don't own "Ghostbusters" (see chapter 1 for full disclaimer). Mind the language, it's still rated PG-13._

 **3**

 **Prisoner 013335**

" _This place is ridiculous." People working themselves up, fighting, stressing, emptying their bank accounts. Why?_

 _Phil was gazing around the shopping mall with the enthusiasm of a man on his way to the dentist for a wisdom tooth extraction. He regretted not doing the sensible thing and ordering Erin's Christmas gift online; this whole trip could have been avoided and he could be buttoning up last minute work back at Columbia University before heading out to his mother's house for the holiday weekend. If he had one clue what Erin wanted for Christmas, he could have done so. However, Erin was the typical girlfriend-maddeningly cryptic about what she wanted for a gift. Phil had decided it was better to bite the bullet, bring her to the mall, and eliminate the margin of error._

 _Erin personally liked the decorations, the music, and the buzz of activity of Christmas shopping. It reminded her of shopping with her parents as a little girl and having her picture taken on Santa's lap. She'd realized the existence of Santa was completely preposterous by age three, but playing along with the myth had made her parents happy, so she did it. "Some people would say the mall is just part of the Christmas experience. We could have our picture taken with Santa at his inflatable toy store…" She smiled at Phil hopefully_

 _Phil stared at her like she had sprouted a second head. "And if you hang it in your office, I'm sure Dr. Filmore will be happy to sign off on your tenure. That's not the kind of thing a person of science would do."_

" _Well, I think it's whimsical," she counted. He rolled his eyes, and Erin relented. "No, no…you're right. Probably a bad idea."_

 _Erin still gazed at the throng of people around Santa's "workshop"…particularly the handsome blonde man dressed as an elf. He was wearing a flashing red Rudolph nose and entertaining the kids in line. His oversized nametag identified the elf as "Kevin"._

" _Do you know what you want for Christmas?"_

 _She tore her gaze away from the handsome elf to the sulky man in the tweed blazer. "Huh? I'm sorry, what did you say?"_

 _Impatience bit into Phil's tone. "Do you know what you want for Christmas?"_

" _Phil, it's supposed to be a surprise! Whatever you get me will be fine." As long as it's a diamond ring. Otherwise, she was going to eat a bathtub full of ice cream while enduring another bought of full-blown self-loathing._

 _Phil hadn't even asked what Erin was doing for Christmas. He either assumed they'd be getting together or had made other plans. She had a feeling she knew the answer. He was probably going to his mother's house in the Hampton's again. Their umbilical cord didn't stretch much farther than New York City._

 _She wondered if the handsome elf had plans for Christmas…_

" _No woman in history has meant it when she's said that. If I guess wrong, you'll pout for a week but will deny it the whole time. Just tell me what you want," Phil said. He stopped in front of the jewelry store. Didn't women always want jewelry for Christmas? That's what the relentless advertisers wanted people to believe. "What about these Pandora charm bracelets? I supposed the name is meant to subliminally warn men what terrors will be unleashed if we don't buy this for our wives or girlfriends?"_

 _He thought he was being funny. Erin simply stared at him._

" _Pandora's Box?"_

" _Yes, I got the reference." She wanted him to get her something romantic, but that clearly was not going to happen. If she picked out a ring, the hint would be wasted on Phil and the petite slip of a salesgirl would give Erin a sympathetic stare…or worse, ask if they'd set a date so that Phil could announce to everyone in the store that they weren't engaged._

" _Bath salts," she answered finally._

 _The answer pleased him. Erin knew it would. "That's a practical choice."_

" _Yes."_

 _He checked his watch. They'll be done well before their lunch hour is over. He was certain they'd waste half the afternoon at the mall. They made their way to Bed, Bath, and Beyond in silence. Phil made a mental list of what still needed to be done before he left work. Erin only wanted to go home and eat a bathtub full of ice cream…and she wanted to eat it off the chest of that gorgeous blonde elf._

GBGBGBGBGBGB

The holding cell in the S.D.A. version of Homeland Security was a lot more high-tech than the one back in Holtzmann's universe, she noted idly. Too bad the bunks weren't more comfortable. It reminded her of Princess Leia's prison cell on the Death Star in _Star Wars_. If she weren't nursing a headache and had her tools, she would have enjoyed pulling apart the wall panels until she found all the microphones and cameras hidden around the room. There was a 'vent' at the top she was reasonably sure could pump gas into the room. That was creepy as hell when she thought about it.

Holtzmann had no idea how she was going to get out of this building, much less find her way back to the firehouse to look for Jagannath's medallion. That was assuming Evil Blonde Erin hadn't already guessed that "Spengler's" arrival had to have a connection to the firehouse and sent her people to search the building. If they got to the ghost rock first, Holtzmann was well and truly screwed.

She didn't bother to sit up when the cell door buzzed open; she only turned her head to see whether it was a friendly face or Darth Vader with his little drug robot come to question her some more.

Abby Yates was standing in the doorway.

"Shouldn't you be dressed as a Stormtrooper, Luke?" Holtzmann greeted her.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Abby was at her in an unsettling way…like she couldn't decide whether to hug Holtzmann or thought she was a ghost. Holtzmann watched her as she drew a small remote from her coat pocket and pointed it at the small green light from one of the hidden cameras above the cell door. The green light turned red.

"They'll be experiencing technical difficulties…it will only take them about two minutes to fix it," Abby explained.

 _Okay, this was starting off a little more promising than the reunion with Evil Blonde Erin_. Still, Holtzmann didn't dare get her hopes up, but she did make the effort of sitting up and facing Abby.

In two minutes, Erin would find out that Abby was here against orders and either fire her or throw her in jail. Abby didn't care. There wasn't a day since the explosion at the firehouse that she hadn't prayed to have her friend in front of her, alive and whole. She would gladly trade her career for two minutes just to be able to talk to Jillian again.

Abby approached the woman timidly, still staring. "You really do look like her. I've always heard theories of counterparts in parallel universes, but…wow." She pointed to the bunk, asking permission to sit. Holtzmann shrugged and slid over to make room for her.

She produced a familiar tube-shape can and offered it to Holtzmann. Potato chips. "I don't know if you like them, but Jillian used to eat these when she was nerv-"

Holtzmann snatched the can and dove in, immediately feeling better. Her stomach was unsettled from the effect of the injury and the drugs they'd pumped into her. "You should know, bribes aren't going to get me to cooperate. Now, if it was _two_ cans we were talking about…"

Abby smiled. "No bribes. Nothing like that. Unless Director Gilbert asks, then it's totally about that."

She was staring still. Holtzmann understood, but it was getting unnerving. "Okay, the staring is getting a little creepy, Abs."

"Sorry…it's just…how can you be here?" she finally asked.

"Short answer: Don't know. All I know is that this is definitely not my New York City, which means I probably came through some kind of trans-dimensional barrier without realizing it. Had to have been that ghost medallion."

Abby was puzzled. "Medallion?"

Holtzmann regretted the slip of the tongue-she didn't really know if Abby is trustworthy in this universe no matter that she seemed friendly. She hoped Abby really had shut down the surveillance equipment in the cell. "Otherwise, I have a head injury and all of you are hallucinations. Or maybe I'm having another nervous breakdown…which still makes all of you hallucinations."

"We're real, believe me. You have no idea how freaked out Director Gilbert is right now…how freaked out everyone is."

"Tell me."

Abby looked at the floor. She didn't know where to begin-how different their timeline might be from the universe where Jil-where _Holtzmann_ came from. "Jillian and Erin and I were roommates at M.I.T."

Holtzmann groaned. "Aww, not M.I.T…."

Abby wondered what was wrong with M.I.T., but let that bit go. "The three of us were best friends. Jillian was pretty much a celebrity, being the daughter of a Ghostbuster and all. She had a guaranteed job at the Spectral Defense Agency waiting for her when she graduated. She had her father put in a recommendation for me and Erin. We hired in together."

She noticed that Holtzmann had grown quite pale, the potato chip in her hand dropping, forgotten, to the floor. Alarmed, she asked, "What?! What's the matter?"

"My dad's alive?"

The implications of that question were not lost on Abby. She laid her hand on Jillian's shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. "Sure. Your parents are kind of legends, actually."

Holtzmann waited for the explanation, but inside she reeled. _Alive…my dad's alive…Jillian Spengler's dad…but that made him her dad, too, didn't it? In a way?_

"See, I don't know what it's like in your universe, but here we've been through about thirty years of ghosts running amok. Not just in New York-all around the world. Five different times, they almost caused extinction-level apocalyptic events. The Ghostbusters saved us, but the government decided that privatized paranormal defense wasn't enough. The branches of the Ghostbusters across the country were absorbed into Homeland Security, and the Ghostbusters became consultants for a special division of Homeland Security that became the Spectral Defense Agency.

Abby sobered thinking back on it. She twiddled her thumbs anxiously. "We thought we were being hired for research and study of spectral life forms, to think up new systems of containment. We didn't know that the S.D.A.'s primary directive was to find a…permanent solution to the spectral threat to Earth. Jillian was hired to aide in the creation and construction of a bridge device that would allow us to pierce the spectral barrier and unleash a cataclysmic weapon into their dimension."

"Ghost genocide?!" Holtzmann was shocked that Abby and Erin would go for that...that Jillian Spengler would go for that. Defense against malevolent entities was one thing, but not every ghost intended harm to humans. Beyond that, there were other ramifications to such a device that Spengler surely had to understand. "A device like that would generate a cross-rip that would permanently shred the barrier. If the cross-rip was uncontrolled, it could tear this dimension apart."

"Exactly what Jillian tried to tell them. Director Peck and Senator Gorin and the mucky-mucks didn't listen. They stole her weapon designs and had other scientists use it to complete the work. Built the weapon off-site in the old Ghostbusters firehouse under the name of a dummy corporation staffed by scientists who weren't on the official government payroll so the S.D.A. could deny connection to the work. By the time she figured out where they were hiding the device, it was too late.

"You're right. Jillian was right: The device generated a dimensional cross-rip that was going to tear the planet apart in a matter of minutes…it all happened so fast." Abby was blinking hard, fighting the tears. "They couldn't shut the weapon down once it activated. Jillian found a way…she managed to reverse the power flow so the weapon overloaded. It went up in seconds. She didn't have time to get clear of the blast. There was nothing we could do."

Jillian had made the S.D.A. evacuate the scientists and civilians from the area against Director Peck's orders, to save as many lives as possible (not that anyone needed much prompting to flee the area with the gaping hole in-well, in the universe-looming above the building). They'd been in the midst of the evacuations when the building went up, pieces of it sucked into the nexus before it winked out of existence.

Abby lapsed into silence, but Holtzmann didn't need an explanation for what would have happened if Jillian Spengler had been inside the firehouse when that weapon detonated. It would have been every bit as bad as crossing the proton streams. There wouldn't have been one single atom left of her.

 _Still, it was a freaking awesome way to go if you had to go…_

"I'm sorry, Abs." She put an arm around Abby's shoulders, feeling the sobs that the woman was doing her best to stifle.

Eventually, Abby brushed at her eyes, trying to regain some composure. "She's the reason I stayed with the S.D.A., even though I wanted to walk away. If she knew I was still here after all the lies, knowing what they're capable of, she'd never forgive me. After what happened to her-I just wanted to make sure nothing like that ever happened to anyone, human or ghost, ever again." Abby hadn't been able to stomach the idea of being made to help engineer any more weapons, so she'd gone back to school. She was working on her medical degree through one of the S.D.A.'s accelerated programs.

Abby finally dared to look up at Holtzmann. "Seeing you brought it all back…but it's also kind of like having her back again."

Holtzmann caught the slip. "Abby, dear Abby, you realize I'm not Jillian Spengler, right?"

"But, you're the same person-from a different dimension, yes, but how different can you be?"

Holtzmann thinks of Patty and Erin. "You'd be surprised."

She nodded. Holtzmann was right. "Don't be too hard on Erin. She went after the Director's job because she wanted to prevent another doomsday weapon from being built. But, you work with vipers every day and you start to act like a snake, too."

"Is that why the mob was trying to kill me? Pissed off that Jillian almost destroyed the world?"

"The Ghostbusters really became a pain in the S.D.A.'s ass after Jillian was killed. They have a lot of sympathizers who think the S.D.A. is too radical and wants the agency shut down. The S.D.A. really smeared Jillian's name after the accident. They had to let her take the blame, make it out like she sabotaged humanity's last chance to permanently be rid of ghosts. Part of the world thinks she was a crazy woman who nearly killed us all. Some people think you were a hero who saved the world from the S.D.A.'s radical weapon. And some people think since you were the daughter of a Ghostbuster, you were just trying to save the ghost realm and sold out humanity. Erin's afraid if they find out you're alive, they'll think you're her ghost coming back for revenge or some bullshit thing like that. People are freaks."

"Abby…I admit this is a very strange situation, but I told you before, I'm not Jillian Spengler."

"Doesn't matter. As far as the S.D.A. will be concerned, you being alive puts their whole secret at risk. They aren't going to settle for locking you up. If the Erin doesn't take care of it, Senator Gorin has plenty of other goons who will. If she hasn't issued a DX-4 order on you yet, she will by morning. We have to get you out of here."

"'We'?"

As soon as Abby opens the door, alarms begin to blare: " _Alert: Security breach, prisoner 013335. Alert: Security breach, prisoner 013335…_ "

The guards outside the door charged into the room. Abby pulled a flashlight from her pocket and jabbed it into the first guard's sternum. The flashlight had a built-in Taser that rendered him unconscious. Holtzmann jumped at the second guard, ignoring the head rush from the sudden movement, and knocked him head-first into the steel wall. He slumped to the floor.

Abby held up the taser gun. "No woman should be without protection, right?" she cracks.

Holtzmann grinned, not being able to resist a high five with her.

"That being said, if you really do turn out to be Jillian's ghost and try to suck my planet into a parallel universe, I am going to be mad as hell," Abby warned her.

GBGBGBGBGBGB

The exterior looked like a darkened warehouse in a broken-down section of New York City. The surrounding streets held nothing of interest-more warehouses, an abandoned tire factory, low income houses that had half-collapsed-so there were few cars or pedestrians in the area. The hearse would have stood out if it had parked to near the warehouse that was the S.D.A.'s field office simply because of the lack of other traffic in the area.

A taxicab, however, could park a block or two over without drawing immediate suspicion…so long as the driver propped his feet through the open window and opened a newspaper as if he were playing hooky from work and wanted an empty street to hide away. The S.D.A. guards (dressed as vagrants) wouldn't immediately chase away the vehicle.

Had they seen the driver-or the trio of ghosts hidden in the back seat-they would have sounded the alarm immediately.

Ray peered at the building. Specifically, he watched the small towers erected at each of the four corners of its roof, green lights pulsing at regular intervals. A passerby would have mistaken these for radio antenna or cell towers.

He didn't have long to wait. Precisely on schedule, the green lights changed to red.

Ray reached for his pager and keyed in the message: _Spectral barrier disabled. Go._

He looked into the rear-view mirror, catching the eye of the ghosts in the back seat.

"Go."

Jagannath, Slimer, and the swan-shaped yellow ghost Ray had named Arlo eagerly swooped out of the vehicle and descended upon the very startled S.D.A. guards.

GBGBGBGBGBGB

 _Spectral barrier disabled. Go._

In an abandoned parking garage five blocks away, Egon set aside his page and turned the key in the ignition. Miraculously, Ecto-1's engine rattled to life (it belched out a cloud of black smoke, but it started).

The man riding shotgun (well, proton shotgun in their case) grinned at Egon. "Another Christmas in the trenches," Winston quoted one of his favorite holiday movies as the vehicle rolled from the safety of its hiding place onto the street. Not like they could blend in, even if they had repainted the vehicle black and removed the telltale ghost logo.

Janine had subjected Egon to enough Christmas movies that he caught the reference, nodding at its appropriateness. "Indeed," he said.

GBGBGBGBGBGB

"Um, Abby, exactly what are they going to do to you if they catch you helping me?"

They were making their way through the parking garage, which Holtzmann did not think was a great exit plan as it afforded many places for security guards and agents to lay in wait. She held the taser weapon, the better to convince a guard that Abby was her prisoner if they should be caught.

Holtzmann was also thinking that wasn't going to be hard for Erin to figure out who helped her escape, regardless of whether Abby had temporarily shut down the camera when she opened the cell door.

"I don't care about that," Abby said, determined. She had keyed up the security systems with her tablet, patching into the cameras to track the search patterns of the agents in the building. For added fun, she was using Erin's stolen password to do her hacking. It was never hard to figure out the Director's current password; twenty years, and her friend still based her passwords on episode titles from _The X-Files_ , Abby shook her head.

"Well, I _do_ care…I'm not letting you go to jail for me."

"Don't worry, I think our diversion has arrived." She held out the tablet so that Holtzmann could see the security camera transmissions.

When Abby had brought down the security systems, it had temporarily deactivated the spectral barricade designed to keep ghosts out of the building. She'd hoped the Ghostbusters were nearby, ready, and it seemed they were because ghosts had flooded into the building. They vapors and apparitions were apparently having a ball creating a diversion for the guards who would have otherwise caught up with Abby and Holtzmann by now. The ghosts were methodically searching the prison cells and every room of the building, searching for something.

Someone.

Which was why Abby was surprised to find agents and security start swarming into the parking garage before she and Holtzmann were even within sight of an exit. Erin was in the lead.

Holtzmann grabbed Abby by the arm and made a show of dragging her friend into the stairwell toward that led down to the loading dock while holding out the taser (like that would have done any good if the agents decided to simply shoot both women).

"Holtzmann-stop!" Erin shouted.

Abby and Holtzmann stopped. The stairwell door was locked and Abby couldn't pull out her tablet to disable the lock without betraying her part in the escape plan.

"Okay, Abby, I'm really sorry about this-it's for your own good." Holtzmann wrapped an arm around startled Abby's neck and pinned Abby's other arm behind her back. She held the taser near Abby's neck, but kept her thumb far from the trigger. "For what it's worth, you're my best friend in any dimension, and I love you, Abs."

She shouted at the advancing guards. "Stop right there! I don't need weapons to snap her neck, Director Gilbert! You're Jillian Spengler might have been a harmless little ghost hugger, but I'm a whole other story."

"What?" Abby whispered.

"Just go with it," Holtzmann shushed her. "It was pretty clever, sending your little lackey to sweet talk me into giving you my weapons' secrets. You knew having Abby turn on the waterworks would get to me, didn't you?"

Erin glared at Abby. Whether Yates had gone to that cell out of displaced loyalty to Spengler's dopple-ganger or whether she had tried to elicit more information from the prisoner (and Erin suspected it was the former), she was furious with the doctor. She had no doubt that she would discover her own password had been stolen and used to aid in Holtzmann's escape. They would be having an extensive conversation about Abby's judgement and disciplinary actions (perhaps some jail time) once this situation was under control.

For now, she had to get the phalanx of ghosts out of the building and contain their prisoner. "Holtzmann, this isn't personal…"

"Really? Cause, I'm doing the math in my head and it's kind of adding up to you guys not being able to let me live if you're going to prevent worldwide panic…plus, you kind of need to me to keep quiet about Spengler taking the fall for that bomb you guys built. Correct me if I'm wrong."

Erin did not correct her.

"Yeah…so, I'm thinking I'll be better off taking my chances with the lynch mob-"

The stairwell door exploded open from the inside, a flood of ghosts pouring into the garage. A few disappeared into the blasts from the agents' proton weapons before the remaining guards were sent flying into walls and parked vehicles. The ones who avoided the first attack from the ghosts were forced to run as the specters used blasts of telekinetic energy to send the parked cars careening towards them. Erin dove behind a sedan, dodging flailing talons and bursts of ectoplasm and flying vehicles. The burst of telekinentic energy knocked both Holtzmann and Abby from their feet.

Jagannath and Slimer spied the familiar blonde woman. Whether this was the person they were meant to liberate or not, they recognized a friend and swooped towards her. Slimer keened happily, "Jil-lan!" The ghosts descended upon Holtzmann, lifting her off her feet, and dragged her into the stairwell in the space of two seconds before the guards could stop them.

The other ghosts followed, telekinetically shutting the door behind them. A small golf cart flipped end-over-end and landed in front of the door, blocking it from pursuers.

Erin moved out of her hiding place, fuming at the guards. "Someone explain to me how the Government's finest can't apprehend one tiny, unarmed scientist in the highest security building in the country!"

One of the guards pointed out: "They threw freaking cars at us!"

Abby groaned as she sat up, ears popping from the AP-Xh shift that had accompanied the ghosts and rubbing at her throat. Erin move to kneel beside her.

"I thought I could change her mind about cooperating."

Erin ignored the bullshit lie, carefully tilting Abby's chin so that she can check her neck for bruising. "We'll discuss your error in judgement later. For now, are you hurt, Dr. Yates?

Rather surprised at the concern in Erin's voice, Abby shook her head.

"Good." She gestures to an agent. "Take Dr. Yates to the infirmary, please. The rest of you, try to track where the hell those ghosts are taking Dr. Holtzmann."

GBGBGBGBGBGB

The ghosts made quick work of the doors to the loading dock-and the guards who swarmed to block the escape route. It was disconcerting to Holtzmann to be dragged along by the ghosts, especially while they were dodging proton streams and explosions from proton grenades (otherwise, she might have enjoyed the sensation of flying more). She had to remind herself that these ghosts had saved her from the mob and, logically, they were probably not abducting her with malicious intent.

She hoped.

They deposited her five blocks away, on the corner of a deserted street. It took a second to stop her knees from wobbling as she reoriented herself to standing. The ghosts glided away, leaving her standing there. "Hey! Wait a second-!" she wasn't going to get very far if she had to run from S.D.A. pursuers on foot.

That was when she spied the taxicab pulling up to the curb. Something told her this was her ride, so she ran for the car.

A familiar face grinned at her from behind the wheel.

"Dr. Holtzmann, I presume?" Ray greeted.

When she came alongside the car and he got his first good look at the young woman they had just rescued, all he could say was "Holy shit…"

The message from Patty Tolan-"Bad Karma"-was her message to the Ghostbusters that there was an event of supreme importance taking place, possibly an apocalypse-level event. It could mean anything from a new weapon being created to a prisoner in need of rescue (usually an innocent specter corralled for questioning and elimination). Once in a great while, it was a scientist being coerced into helping with weapons research.

Today, the message had meant something else. After the bizarre voice mail from "Jillian", Ray had suspected another imposter. The Ghostbusters had encountered freaks who fancied themselves to be the reincarnated daughter of Egon and Janine or possessed by her ghost. Such freak shows caused endless misery for Ray's friends. There was no way he was going to share that message with Jillian's parents, which was the reason he'd sent a message for Patty Tolan to go check the firehouse.

She was the only S.D.A. agent the Ghostbusters full trusted. As a girl, she had been befriended by Winston during his days volunteering with the youth centers. By the time she was grown up and graduated from NYU, she had been adopted as part of his extended family. She'd wanted to help the Ghostbusters prevent another tragedy like the one that had claimed Jillian's life. Patty had been able to assimilate into the ranks of the S.D.A. Never having associated publicly with the Ghostbusters (besides taking a few of Winston's classes as a child) and lacking a biological connection to Winston, there had been no legal basis to decline her application.

So, when Patty had returned the message "Bad Karma—Dr. Holtzmann" after visiting the firehouse to investigate a phone call from "Jillian", it had confirmed to Ray that there was more going on that some kook impersonating his deceased goddaughter. 'Bad Karma' meant 'come immediately'. 'Dr. Holtzmann' was the name of the person they were meant to rescue.

"Ray?!" Holtzmann wondered why that surprises her. She'd been running into familiar faces since the minute she crossed the dimensional bridge.

"You have me at a disadvantage, Dr. Holtzmann." Ray tried not to gawk as he got out of the taxi that he'd borrowed from an inattentive cabbie. She wasn't calling herself 'Jillian Spengler', which he took as a positive indication that she wasn't some kook.

But, what convinced him more than that was the trio of ghosts who descended upon her and the ectoplasmic hug Slimer subjected her to as he cried, "Jil-lan!" Her prisoner jumpsuit was doused in slime by the time he was finished. Jagannath also floated by, admonishing Ray: "Protect Honored One."

The ghosts could not be fooled. If she were an imposter, they would know. If she were a ghost, they would know.

 _What the hell was she then_? Ray wondered.

"You were a friend back in my dimension," Holtzmann explains.

 _Back in her dimension? What did that mean?_ Ray offered to shake her hand, saving his questions for when they were in a safer location. "I still am. Welcome to the resistance-"

Ecto-1 was pulling alongside them. Ray swallowed as he guided Dr. Holtzmann to the back seat and held open the door for her. Egon was in the driver's seat. He was concentrating on watching for S.D.A. pursuit and didn't give Ray or their new passenger a glance as they got into the vehicle.

"Uh…Winston maybe you ought to drive?" Ray suggested.

Winston turned in the passenger seat to look back at them. "Why? What's going-" He saw their passenger and his eyes widened. "-oh my god. Um, I think you're right. Egon, seriously, I think you'd better pull over and let me drive, buddy. Now."

Holtzmann's head came up sharply at the name. _Egon_? She looked at the driver's reflection in the rear view mirror.

"Dad?" she blurted out in surprise.

Egon automatically looked at the rear-view mirror, locking gazes with her.

" _Jillian_?!"

He promptly ran the car into a row of trash cans, scattering them and sending pedestrians running for cover before he hit the brakes.

"Now can I drive?" Winston asked.

GBGBGBGBGBGBGBGB

 _Erin returned to her office at Columbia University, giving her bath salts to the department receptionist. It wasn't like Phil was ever going to share a bath with her, he'd never know she didn't use them, Erin thought sourly._

 _She was surprised to see someone waiting for her outside of her office. The campus should be empty on the day before Christmas Eve. She didn't recognize the short man with the curly hair and the backpack, but he looked a little older than the average student._

" _Hello? Are you one of my students? I'm sorry, I'm not keeping office hours today," Erin informed him as she unlocked her door._

 _He followed her into the office anyway. "Ah-Doctor Gilbert. It's a privilege to meet a woman of your stature." He shook her hand. "Forgive the intrusion on the holiday. I'd just like a few moments of your time?"_

 _Erin discretely looked to see if there were any campus security guards around because this odd little man had her radar going. She wondered if bath salts would be as effective as pepper spray if she flung them at him and ran. Then she remembered that Marion the receptionist had the bath salts anyway. "Um, I suppose I can spare a few minutes before my colleague gets here. He'll be coming soon. Can I ask what this is about?" She made sure to leave her door open, then hurried to her chair. At least she had the heavy wooden desk between herself and her strange visitor._

" _Of course. My name is Rowan North. I am an associate of Doctor Abigail Yates," he introduced himself._

 _She felt that her eye twitched at the name, but she politely asked: "Abby? How is she?"_

" _She's well. Thank you for asking."_

" _You understand that I don't work with her anymore?" Erin reminded him carefully. If he was an associate of Abby's, he was clearly here to ask about ghosts or that damned book they'd written. Either way, it would be a conversation she wouldn't want Dr. Filmore or the other faculty to overhear._

 _Right on cue, Rowan continued. "I'm aware. May I ask why you abandoned your work in paranormal physics?"_

 _Erin changed her mind-she's glad her colleagues weren't on campus to hear this little weirdo's questions. It would be better if the odd man murdered her then and now, because her career would be over if anyone found out about Erin's days as a paranormal investigator. "You're looking for an answer other than 'ghosts aren't real and the whole field is a sham'?"_

" _Sham?" Rowan hadn't expected to hear that from Dr. Gilbert. "You don't truly believe that? You wouldn't have invested so much of your youth on the pursuit of the paranormal if you did."_

 _Erin wrinkled her nose, resisting the urge to smack him. Her youth? "Do you have any questions related to actual physics that I can answer for you? String theory, quantum mechanics, the theory of everything, or the tenth dimension? If you came to ask me about ghosts-"_

 _Rowan perked up at the last bit. "I came to present you with the opportunity to prove your theory…an opportunity your former associate was too short-sighted to pursue."_

 _That was alarming. How bat crap crazy did this man have to be if Abby wasn't willing to humor his ideas? If this was the kind of people Abby was associating with, Erin was deeply concerned. But, if you run around claiming ghosts are real, these are the kind of weirdos you attracted…_

 _Erin's plan was to humor the freak and get him out of there as quickly as possible, track down Abby, strangle her for sending this creep to Erin, and then find Kevin the blonde elf and ask his favorite flavor of ice cream._

" _How would I do that…for the sake of argument?"_

 _Rowan smiled._

GBGBGBGBGBGB

It turned out their destination was a series of warehouse out on New York's waterfront It was a tense ride there, mostly made in silence. Holtzmann spent most of it staring at the back of her father's head ( _not her father_ , she repeatedly reminded herself. _Jillian Spengler's father_.) He rode in the passenger seat, pointedly not glancing back at her. She didn't know what to think of that. She finally just stared at her feet.

Ray reached across the seat and gave her folded hands a squeeze, smiling kindly. She returned the squeeze, but couldn't force the smile or glance his way.

Finally, the car braked to a halt at a warehouse near the waterfront. Egon all but jumped from the vehicle. Winston shrugged apologetically at their passenger and followed him, mentally rehearsing the lecture he was going to give the man later. He understood why his friend was upset, they all were, but hostility wasn't going to gain answers.

Holtzmann didn't move from her seat, still staring miserably at the floorboard.

Sighing, Ray feigned good cheer: "Well, here we are, ma'am. Welcome to the House of-"

Abruptly, Holtzmann's door banged open. A strong hand reached in, hooked her by the elbow and dragged her from the car. She found herself pinned to the door by a strong hand and staring down the barrel of a proton pistol wielded by an unsmiling Egon Spengler.

" _Whoah_ — _Egon_! What do you think you're doing?!" Ray dove out of the car. He and Winston raced to pull him away from the girl, but he would not be moved.

"Egon! Let her go!" Winston ordered, pulling the proton weapon out of his hands before there was an accident.

"This is a trick!" Egon snarled. "She's some kind of plant for the S.D.A.! They're trying to smoke us out…Director Gilbert...or Senator Gorin." Egon grabbed Holtz's chin roughly, turning her head to look for plastic surgery scars. "You look like her, lady. I'll give you that. Nice touch with the 'dad' crap."

Holtzmann was too stunned to do anything but stare back and struggle to breathe while he had his forearm pressed across her throat.

"Egon!" Ray and Winston finally grabbed his arms and all but body checked him away from the woman.

"I trust Patty. There's an explanation," Winston said firmly.

"Egon-let her go," Ray ordered.

Egon stared Holtzmann down, but he holstered the neutrino pistol and backed off, still fuming.

Holtzmann coughed as she finally drew air back into her lungs, rubbing her throat. _Not exactly how she would have pictured meeting her father for the first time…except that this wasn't her father. Dad but not dad…they didn't have terms for situations this far down the rabbit hole._

For lack of anything else she could say, when she caught her breath, she said only, "I'm sorry."

Ray not-so-subtly placed himself protectively between Holtzmann and Egon, just in case. "You can understand this is a bit of a shock?"

"Kinda like an EF5 tornado is a bit windy," Winston added.

"Abby told me what happened."

Sadness flashed behind Ray's eyes.

"What's going on out here? What is all the shouting about?" A feminine, authoritative voice boomed from inside the warehouse as the large door slowly rolled open.

Holtzmann blanched. She knew that voice.

She saw Ray and Winston both wince. "Oh boy," Ray sighed. "Dr. Holtzmann, there's one more thing I should warn you about…"

"Too late," Winston said as Janine Melnitz-Spengler appeared at the warehouse entrance.

Janine's attention was squarely on Egon for the moment. One glance at his grim expression, and she hurried to his side. "Egon, what's the matter? Are you all right? I heard you yelling." When he didn't answer right away, Janine looked to Ray and Winston for an explanation.

Her gaze fell on the woman standing behind the two men.

"Janine, this is Doctor _Holtzmann_ ," Ray emphasized the name, but his words fell on deaf ears. He and Winston and even Egon were completely off the red-head's radar now.

Janine was fixated on Holtzmann. Eyes widening, she slowly approached.

She wanted to run, distance herself before she caused them any more pain, but Holtzmann didn't have the heart.

"Jillian?" Janine breathed the name.

" _Holtzmann_ ," Winston repeated, afraid for Janine to start getting her hopes up.

"Long story," Ray added.

"Janine, don't-" Egon touched her elbow and tried to steer her away, but she shook him off.

Holtzmann made herself stand still and allow it as Janine slowly reached out and lay a palm against her cheek, just to see if the younger woman was real. "It _is_ you," Janine gasped.

With that, she flung her arms around Holtz's neck and hung on as if for dear life.

Something in her cautious movements and mesmerized expression reminded Jillian of that night three months earlier when her birth mother had shown up at the hospital, begging to reconnect with her daughter. Holtzmann stood stiffly, at a loss, as much at a loss now as she had been that day.

Tentatively, she returned the embrace. "Mom."

GBGBGBGBGBGB

The warehouse obviously served as work space and living quarters for the original Ghostbusters. It was a large, two-story structure. The offices on the second floor have been converted into bedrooms from what Holtzmann could tell. The garage was at the front, directly behind two enormous rolling doors.

The central space had been two distinct work stations. One was cluttered with machine parts, auto parts, and various tools scattered haphazardly. It was dotted with newspaper clippings, schematics for their original proton pack and other equipment, and various personal photos. Judging by the photos, Ray and Winston shared that workspace.

The other workstation was meticulously organized. Five different computers—cobbled together from outdated units-were performing various operations. There were shelves and small freezer units with transparent doors stacked with petri dishes of spores, molds, funguses, and samples of various ecto-plasms. Beakers, tubes, Bunsen burners, and other equipment lined the tables. Newspaper clippings and photos are carefully arranged on a corkboard. One clipping was dated just a year before Holtzmann was born: " _Apocalypse? No! Ghostbusters Save the World_ ", with a photo of Egon, Ray, Winston, and Peter Venkman. A second clipping asks: " _Who You Gonna Call_?" with the same stock photo taken the day of Gozer's invasion. More clippings highlighted later ghost battles.

Holtzmann was more interested in the personal photos, all carefully preserved in glass frames. There was a photo of Egon, Janine, and baby Jillian (who wore a onesie that read " _Daddy's Little Scientist_ "). It was the same photo that Janine had given Holtzmann, the photo that sat on her desk back in the other universe.

Another picture showed Egon and young Jillian elbows' deep in machine parts assembling a robot. There was a Christmas tree in the background. A third picture had been taken at Jillian's high school graduation, with all the Ghostbusters and (apparently) all their relatives crowded into the shot. Egon and Janine were kissing in another photo, the banner hanging behind them wishing them "Happy 25th!" The last photo was a candid shot of Jillian, seated at a laboratory table, so focused on her work that she probably hadn't noticed anyone was there taking her picture. Holtzmann wondered if it was the laboratory at M.I.T. or at the S.D.A.

She thought about the SDHC card that Janine had given her, feeling it's outline in her pocket to be sure it was still there, that Erin's goons didn't take it while she was unconscious or she didn't lose it in the firehouse. There would be no photos such as these on that disc.

"Hey," Janine put a hand on Holtzmann's shoulder, shaking her out of her reverie. She pressed a mug full of chicken soup into the younger woman's hands. Janine was pretty sure the S.D.A. hadn't bothered feeding her daughter while they had her locked up. "Come on, sit down."

Janine looped an arm through Jillian's and guided her to the back of the warehouse, which had been converted into a living space. There were space heaters, various couches and tables, a kitchen, and a flat screen television. Holtzmann aimed for the kitchen table, but Janine insisted she sit beside her on one of the overstuffed couches. Ray and Winston sat in chairs across from them. Jagannath and Slimer and Arlo floated in lazy circles in the ceiling above, swooping now and then to try to steal unattended food from the humans' mugs and bowls.

Egon paced, his gaze riveted to Holtzmann. She tried to ignore the suspicious stare.

Janine's fingers brushed the bandage on Jillian's temple. "You're hurt. What happened?"

"I think I freaked some people out when I showed up at the firehouse," was all Holtzmann would say. She didn't think telling her parallel-universe mom that an angry mob had tried to kill her was going to do anything to ease Janine's mind. Janine fetched a first aid kit and insisted on dressing the cut with a fresh bandage no matter how Holtzmann tried to wave her off.

Ray looked up from doodling on a clipboard to welcome her with a grin. "Feel free to use our guest room." He gestured to the upper level. "It's not much, but-well, it's not much."

Janine smiled. "We'd take you home but-"

Egon interrupted. "We're not taking her home, Janine."

His wife gave him the stink eye. "-but that's the first place that Director Gilbert will look for you."

"Now that we initiated a jailbreak from the S.D.A., I doubt we can't go home again, either. Ever," Egon mumbled.

Janine's lips curled into a frown. "That's the last thing I care about right now, and you're being-Egon, what are you doing?"

Egon had gone to his work station to retrieve a scanner. He marched back and pointedly began to scan Holtzmann. "A PKE meter? You think I'm a ghost?" she asked him.

"Ghost, imposter, shapeshifter. I certainly don't believe that you're my daughter miraculously back from the dead," he replied.

Ray raised his hand as if he were in a classroom. "Not to play devil's advocate, Egon, but Dr. Holtzmann hasn't claimed to be your daughter. She's been very up front about that."

"She's been exposed to a healthy dose of temporal radiation. There's also a residual energy signature that I don't recognize," Egon put away the meter.

"A trip through a trans-dimensional barrier would do that," Holtzmann said.

"No-a trip through a trans-dimensional barrier would make you an _actual_ ghost, or aren't you familiar with particle physics, _Doctor_ Holtzmann?" he fired back.

Ray interrupted, holding up the clipboard so Holtzmann could see what he'd drawn. "Does this look like the medallion that you took from your Jagannath before the…crossover?"

At the mention of his name, the blue ghost paused in his lazy circles to glide down and hover behind Ray and repeat: "Jagannath is friend."

Holtzmann examined the drawing. "There was some kind of writing, too. Looked like Sanskrit or something similar. The stone was green."

He nodded, noting the details. "Jagannath, Arlo, Slimer?" The ghosts resumed their excited fluttering around the room. "Go back to the firehouse. See if you can find any medallion."

Happy to be needed once more, the ghosts glided away, opting to go through the nearest wall in a splash of slime instead of using the open garage doors.

Ray pushed himself off the couch and headed for a bookshelf, pulling a heavy volume down. "There are multiple artifacts with the ability to alter time, fulfill wishes, create holes in dimensions. We just need to know if you're in a separate, parallel dimension or whether reality as we know it has somehow been altered from its original timeline…in which case, your exposure to the medallion—whatever it was-could be the reason you're the only one who remembers." He set the book on the kitchen table and began leafing through the delicate vellum pages.

"Let's assume that this blackout you mentioned was the point where you 'crossed over'," Egon resumed his pacing. "What precisely were you doing in the moments prior to that?"

"I was getting ready to spend Christmas with my mother," she said. Janine squeezed her arm.

Egon wasn't satisfied. "I said _precisely_ -were you talking to your mother? Were you alone? What were you thinking about?" He was oblivious when Holtzmann leaned her head back to bang it against the couch cushion as he talked. "If it was a wish fulfilling artifact, whatever you were thinking or discussing is obviously the basis for your sudden change of reality."

Holtzmann felt herself blush. "If you really want to know-Janine gave me an SDHD chip with photos of my father. I was thinking that I wished I could spend a Christmas with him."

 _There. It was out._

She made herself as small as she could on the couch, not knowing how Egon would react. Janine's eyes widened, her face suddenly paled. Egon halted in his tracks. Holtzmann could see his mind fitting the pieces into place. "When we retrieved you from the S.D.A., you were surprised to see me," Egon recalled. "You were not, however, surprised to see Janine, Ray, or Winston. I should have realized: I'm deceased in your timeline. Correct?"

She didn't think an answer was necessary. Beside her, Janine drew a sharp, startled breath.

Egon absorbed the information. He took consolation that the death of his counterpart was more palatable that it would have been to find out the reason Holtzmann hadn't know her father was due to that Egon abandoning her and/or her mother.

"That being the parameter of your wish, the artifact would have relatively few options: Resurrect your Egon Spengler, bring you to a reality where Egon Spengler still lived, or kill you so that you would technically be with him in death. Clearly, it avoided the option that would have resulted in your death."

Ray agreed. "Which brings us back to not knowing whether we're in Jillian's timeline and the artifact somehow prevented your death or if she's been transported into our reality." He scratched his head, then held up the book so that they could see the etching on the delicate page. "Is this the medallion?" he asked Hotzmann.

She pulled free of Janine's deathgrip and walked to the table for a closer look. "That's it…Cintamani Stone?" Her stomach sank. "Oh boy."

Ray and Egon silently echoed her sentiment. Winston exchanged looks with Janine, knowing they were the only two people in the room not in the loop. "Do you want to ask, or should I?"

"You might know it by a different name. Some theorists call it the Philosopher's Stone," Ray answered.

"It's an ancient Buddhist tradition that the Cintamani stone was originally a star that fell to earth. It was thought to have wish-fulfilling abilities," Egon continued, in his element now that he had established the paranormal connection to what happened to Holtzmann. "The stone was rumored to have been hidden in the city of Shambhala in the etheric plane, but with fragments of it find their way into our dimension, where it could affect the course of human history. It was believed to be so powerful that the potential effects of some using it would be devastating…if not apocalyptic."

Winston rubbed his eyes. "I really hate it when he starts using that word…"

Ray was following Egon's train of thought: "That could be another reason why the Cintamani or the Philosopher's Stone or whatever you want to call it brought Dr. Holtzmann to a parallel universe…" All eyes turned to him, waiting for an explanation. "Not to be indelicate, but the only way to grant her wish without creating a paradox and tearing a hole in space-time continuum was to bring her to a dimension where her counterpart…where there's no chance of crossing paths with her counterpart. Maybe two Jillians can't exist in the same dimensional plane. It's all theoretical, of course."

"Theoretically, her absence from her dimension of origin could be just as destructive," Egon was pacing again. "Depending on her contributions to her own history."

Holtzmann had been thinking the same thing. "I haven't contributed too much-I just helped keep my friend, Abby, from quitting her research in the paranormal, helped found our Ghostbusters team, and designed and built the weapons that we used to prevent the Fourth Cataclysm. They should be fine without me."

Silence fell on the group for several seconds. Janine finally asked: "Still think she's an imposter, Egon?"

He refused to swayed quite so easily. "I think it's a clever story."

Janine stood now. "Yes—she just _cleverly_ had cosmetic surgery to look like our daughter, surgery that left no scars, doused herself with cosmic radiation, had herself fake arrested by the S.D.A. knowing that Patty would help her escape and call us to come get her."

"Director Gilbert is certainly capable of going to such extreme measures."

"She should never have gone blonde. Some people are not prepared for the ride," Holtzmann added.

Winston stood. "This sounds like a family discussion, I'm just going to…polish the…something." He headed for the garage area.

"Right behind you," Ray followed him.

"Yeah, this is awkward, I think I should go, too-" Holtzmann started for the door as well.

Janine stepped in front of her. "Where are you going to go?"

"Good question, come to think of it."

"Stay then." Janine urged her back to the couch and tried to change the subject. "So, 'Holtzmann'? Is that your married name?"

The younger woman stared at the floor and cleared her throat loudly, obviously uncomfortable with the question. "You really don't want to hear that story," she warned.

Egon folded his arms across his chest, raising an eyebrow. "Why not? I mean, is it something you can't tell _us_? You're supposed parents?"

"Egon, I'm going to come over there in two seconds and pull your bottom lip over your face if you don't stop being an ass," Janine snapped.

Holtzmann tried to stand, but Janine pulled her down again. "There was a warm grate over at Grand Central Station. I think I'll see if it's still there in this dimension-"

"Jillian, sit," Janine insisted. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. You don't have to tell me anything if it's too uncomfortable, just…please stay. I know this isn't exactly what you had in mind for Christmas Eve, but we're still your family." She cast a sidelong glance at her husband that dared him to say a word of disagreement. "I'll fix up the guest room. In the morning, I promise, we'll figure out how to fix this."

Jillian really saw no other options but to agree. She nodded, feeling the smallest knot of warmth in her chest when Janine responded with a delighted smile. She let the older woman lead the way up the stairs.

Janine paused just long enough to swat her husband in the back of his stubborn head on the way.

GBGBGBGBGBGB

"This is terrific. I can hear it now: ' _Why weren't you at our Christmas party, Patricia?' 'Sorry, Uncle Bill, I was busy being baked by radioactive fallout. Good news is you don't need to put no lights on the tree, 'cause I'm pretty sure I glow in the dark now. It was a work thing, you know.'_ "

Patty probably had spent worse holidays working the graveyard shift at the MTA, but she couldn't recall specific examples at that moment. She stood with agents Hawkins and Rorke in the wreckage of the old Ghostbusters' firehouse, picking through the rubble. They all wore special badges that Abby had provided to warn them when they reached the maximum safe exposure to the lingering radioactive fallout in the area. As far as Patty was concerned, if you needed such a badge because you were standing in a nuclear hot zone, you weren't safe one way or the other.

What was worse was that this was the place were Jillian had died. She'd told Director Gilbert she could handle it. The director would always be suspicious of Patty, knowing her vague connection to the former Ghostbusters. She didn't want to give the woman any further cause to doubt her dedication and kick her out of the agency.

Now, Patty knew she had made a mistake. It bothered her to be there. It was like a knife in her guts. Yet, that pain was precisely the reason that Patty _had_ to be the one to search the ruins. No one else should be messing with this place as far as she was concerned. Jillian had been her friend, her extended family…and the way the other S.D.A. agents were tossing pieces of the old lab equipment was pissing Patty off more with every passing second.

Finally, she pointed her flashlight at Hawkins and Rorke's faces, hoping the light freaking burned sense into their brains. "Yo-Crash and Eddie: You throw one more thing around here like it's trash, and I'm going to knock both your skulls together until you pass out. Got it? Show some damn respect!"

They shrugged her off, but were more delicate with their search.

Patty gazed across the wreckage of the old laboratory. There wasn't much left. An old PKE meter was half buried by mortar and boards. It's display panel had been shattered and the antenna broken off. There was a decrepit cassette player lying in pieces in one corner, the tape itself melted. It called up memories of her adopted cousin dancing as she labored over her gadgets and experiments. Patty had to look away from the demolished machine.

 _This Christmas officially sucked_ , Patty decided.

"Someone sat here." Hawkins shone his own flashlight beam onto the worktable. The dust had been disturbed.

Patty inspected that tiny area. "How did she get to the table without leaving footprints? Look-there are tracks going out the door, but none coming into the room," she said. "She couldn't have just…appeared."

"Well, if she's a ghost-" Rorke supplied.

"I'm not going to warn you again," Patty told him.

Something on the floor sparkled in the rubble when Patty's light hit it. It was some kind of necklace. She hoped it wasn't Jillian's "Screw U" necklace or else she was going to lose it in front of Huey and Dewey…

It wasn't. The metal was a weird, round medallion with a green stone inset at its center. "No dust on this," Patty observed.

A ghost suddenly burst through the wall in a spray of green slime, startling the bejeesus out of all three agents. Patty was so completely unprepared that she instinctively shrank back a step from the flying green blob. "What the-?" Her foot caught a broken board and she fell, landing hard on her backside.

The potato-shaped specter floated over and gave her a sloppy, slimy kiss with its oversized tongue. Its breath smelled like rotten flesh. That in combination with the dripping ooze nearly made Patty vomit. "Oh, lord have mercy…I do not get paid enough for this," she gagged.

Rorke drew his weapon and fired at the ghost. The bullet ricocheted off the metal cabinets, narrowly missing Patty. She screamed at him, "Are you kidding me with that? Put that damned thing away!"

Slimer went for him next, dousing Rorke so completely in ooze that the agent couldn't have hung onto his weapon if his life depended on it. The ghost floated away, chuckling to itself.

Jagannath used to commotion to quietly glide through the missing ceiling. He descended upon Patty and tore the medallion from her grasp…along with her own personally jewelry. "Hey! Hey! The bracelet's mine, damn it!" she screamed at him.

The ghost dropped the bracelet before it escaped with the medallion.

"Thank you." Patty crawled to retrieve it. She frowned at Hawkins and Rorke. "You two were no help at all. You know that, right?"

GBGBGBGBGBGB

"Let me get this straight: First, the ghosts helped Dr. Holtzmann escape from an angry mob. Then, they helped her break out of our maximum security holding area. Now, they stole the artifact right from under your nose? That's an unimpressive track record for a twelve-hour period, Agent Tolan."

Director Gilbert sat behind her massive oak desk, her face a stoic mask as she listened to Patty's report. Patty bristled a bit at her condescending tone and the owlish gaze. "Don't be drumming your fingers at me. You weren't there. Your boys-" She waved at Hawkins and Rorke, who stood beside her. "—almost shot my head off. Like bullets were going to stop the ghosts."

Abby occupied one of the chairs in front of the desk. Her laptop was open, and her fingers danced over the keyboard, searching the archives for any information on the medallion that Patty had described. Abby had also pulled several large volumes from her personal library. "I think I've found something," she announced.

She turned the laptop so that Erin and Patty could see the screen. "Does this look like the stone you saw?" Abby asked Patty.

Patty nodded. "That's it." She read the caption on the photo. "Cintamani Stone?"

Erin and Abby exchanged grim looks. "That's bad," Abby said.

"Define 'bad'," Patty said.

"A Cintamani Stone is like a genie in a bottle. Whoever has it can basically use it to reshape history any way they want it," Abby told her. "Some theorists believe ancient empires used pieces of it in their rise to power."

The director leaned back in her chair, mulling the full implications. "Doctor Holtzmann said that she didn't remember how she got into the firehouse. Agent Tolan, you said that there were no tracks going into the firehouse, that it looked as if she'd just manifested there."

"I don't think I used the word 'manifest', otherwise yes. Meaning what?"

"Meaning that Jillian's theory that she crossed from her dimensional plane into ours was likely correct. She must have found the Cintamani stone in her timeline and made some inadvertent wish that her in our parallel timeline," Abby said.

Erin rubbed her eyes. "This is a disaster. That stone in the wrong hands could rewrite our history, and we wouldn't even be aware of it. A hostile government could make themselves the ultimate world power. People could be removed or added to the timeline and change the course of human history. A madman would only have to think of a doomsday weapon and it would be his in a microsecond. These are worst case scenarios, of course."

Patty swallowed. "Okay, glad to know world apocalypse is only the worst-case scenario…"

"A parent could bring a child back from the dead," Abby said quietly.

"You think one of the Ghostbusters used the Cintamani to try to resurrect Jillian Spengler and brought her doppelganger into this dimension by mistake?" Erin asked.

Abby shrugged. "It's possible. Their wish could have dropped the medallion into Jillian's dimension, could have dropped it right into her lap."

Erin shook her head. "Frankly, I don't care if Doctor Holtzmann brought herself here or if mommy and daddy did it-that stone can't be out there where anyone can get their hands on it. Agent Tolan, Dr. Yates, your work on this case is done. " The Director held up her hand to cut off the speculation. "I have to track down Doctor Holtzmann and her ghost-hugger family. That's going to require someone with more experience at fugitive tracking."

With impeccable timing, Erin's phone buzzed and her receptionist announced: "I have Agent Beckman here to see you, Director."

Abby knew what that meant. She blanched. "Agent Beckman? That's a little extreme-"

"Dr. Yates, this is a fugitive with a weapon that can alter the fabric of our reality without our awareness. I would consider that extreme!" Erin countered. "I have no choice but to issue a DX-4 order. Holtzmann needs to be found. Be thankful I'm buying your story that she escaped from that cell all on her own, or Senator Gorin might have issued the same order for you. Good day, Dr. Yates."

Abby reluctantly moved from the office to return to the medical center…to write her resignation.

She wondered if the Ghostbusters needed another hand. Maybe being a fugitive would at least give her the opportunity to finally do some traveling…


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I still don't own "Ghostbusters" (wish I did). See chapter 1 for full disclaimer and warnings._

 **4**

 _ **I Will Make You Hurt**_

Holtzmann woke to gray light pouring through the window of the tiny guest room in the unfamiliar, freezing warehouse.

It was Christmas Eve morning, her sluggish brain reminded her.

Not that she gave a flying fart at this point.

Her mind had dwelled on the puzzle of being stranded in the alternate universe until she'd finally succumbed to complete exhaustion and fallen into a dreamless sleep.

She wondered about her friends and family back in her universe. There were two possible scenarios playing out back home at that moment. Scenario one would be that the Cintamani had simply pulled Jillian from one reality into the other, leaving her own timeline intact. When her mother returned from retrieving Kleenex from the bathroom, she would have found an empty firehouse. Holtzmann could imagine the slow-building panic that Janine would go through when she gradually realized that her daughter had vanished right off the face of the earth.

By now, she would have alerted Abby, Patty, and Erin. They would assume Jillian had met with some kind of foul play, cancel their Christmas plans, and be back in New York City searching for her, probably with the help of all available Homeland Security and NYPD personnel. They would search and never find Holtzmann and never know what had become of her.

That notion was almost too horrible to imagine.

Scenario two was nearly as dreadful: The Cintamani had completely erased Jillian Holtzmann from her timeline. Janine had never given birth to her. The Holtzmanns had never adopted her. Abby had never recruited her as a research partner. Potentially, Abby and Erin had never reunited because Holtzmann hadn't been there to encourage Abby to publish their book. If they had reunited, Jillian still hadn't been there to design the Ghostbusters' weapons. Statistically, it was likely that Abby had hired another lab assistant, but he or she might not have been a particle physicist or a nuclear engineer. If so, whether his or her skills were in any way comparable to Holtzmann's was highly doubtful. It could have been some hapless grad student wanting to wash beakers and strip wires to earn a few bucks.

Potentially, the Ghostbusters did not exist at all.

In which case, potentially Rowan North and his "Fourth Cataclysm" were a complete success and Holtzmann's dimension as she'd known it no longer existed.

Idly, Holtzmann wondered if-on any level at all-her family would miss her if she had been erased.

Someone had thrown an extra wool blanket on her at some point during the night, she noticed. Holtzmann rolled onto her back and pulled the itchy cover up to her chin, telling herself that she wasn't ready to be up.

This was bullshit, of course. She didn't _want_ to be up because she knew what- _who_ -was waiting for her on the other side of that guest room door.

Jillian wondered if he, too, was hiding in his bed like a sulking child, avoiding his daughter and rationalizing his behavior by reminding himself that Jillian-by the strictest terms-wasn't _his_ daughter, but some other Egon's off-spring.

All in all, it wasn't the family reunion Holtzmann had pictured as a child, when she'd been kicked out by one foster home after another, or as a teenager, when she'd hacked the Department of Social Services database searching for the identity of her biological parents. No child would have figured on being reunited with a father from a parallel timeline into any fantasy about family reunion, not even Jillian.

In her imaginings, Dad would greet her with some awesome story of how he'd had to give her up to go save the world from enemy nations or invading aliens. Then, he'd wrap her up in his arms and hold her until she forgot about sub-psychotic foster families and freezing nights on the streets of New York City.

In her darker moments, Jillian had imagined Dad cruelly informing her that her birth had been an unplanned consequence of a drunken one-night stand before he effectively told her to screw off and kicked her to the curb. She'd had repeated nightmares of such a scene that made her wake up with tears streaming down her face, in her lonely bed in the children's home, promising herself that whether her own children were planned or not, she would never, ever abandon them. Fortunately, so far, her only one-night stand had been with Arthur Klein (Jillian hadn't been as drunk as she'd like to believe), which hadn't resulted in any children.

Egon's reaction had been perfectly in keeping with her luck with parental figures-all of them deserters, deceased, or utter freak shows, and all of whom disappeared from her life sooner or later. She didn't know why she'd ever wanted a "family reunion" if it meant this much fucking hurt. No, her real family was waiting for her back at the firehouse. She needed to get back to them, not lay in her bed wishing for paternal affection that obviously wasn't in the cards.

Holtzmann sighed and finally pushed off the blankets. If she was lucky, Jagannath and Slimer would be waiting downstairs with the Cintamani medallion and she could go home.

She didn't see the figure curled up on the floor beside her bed until she nearly tripped over sleeping Janine. Holtzmann had to do a quick hop-step and catch herself against the wall to avoid falling. Miraculously, she managed to stay on her feet without waking the older woman.

Janine had left a garishly wrapped box on the table beside Holtzmann's bed. A Christmas gift. She frowned at the box. It had her name on it-correction, it had the name "Jillian" on it. Janine couldn't have gone shopping last night at three a.m. (unless she shopped at a convenience store), so this was obviously something that she'd purchased years ago for her real daughter. The notion of getting a gift intended for her dead counterpart was creepy as hell. Holtzmann was going to have to figure out a way to decline it without hurting her mother's feelings.

As quietly as possible, she slipped into the old Ghostbuster coveralls that Janine had dug out of Ecto-1 last night (if there were clothes that fit her in this warehouse, she didn't want them any more than she wanted the Christmas gift and for the same reason). Jillian spared one more look at Janine-still trying to guard her daughter even in repose. In her own universe, Janine had taken on a demigod and stepped in front of bullets and other projectiles to defend her child (and, more impressively, put the fear of God into Jillian's foster mother, Lydia).

Holtzmann's dark mood lightened for one fleeting moment, but her heart broke for this Janine, who was so devoted to her deceased child that she readily embraced Holtzmann just to have a part of her daughter back.

Kneeling, Holtzmann brushed a kiss against the woman's forehead. Then, she quietly moved from the room, closing the door behind her.

GBGBGBGBGBGB

The freaking car wouldn't start. Didn't that just figure?

The other Ghostbusters were still sleeping. Holtzmann could have jumped into Ecto-1 and been gone before they woke up and began arguing about what to do with her again. And the clunker wouldn't start.

She missed the hearse.

Holtzmann debated calling a cab, but there was the problem that she was a fugitive from the government and Evil Blonde Erin likely had her goons searching for Jillian. Plus, she had no money to pay a cab. For all she knew, they might not use money on this Earth, but that seemed like a longshot. She'd rather not be on foot if she had the feds hunting for her. For that matter, it probably wasn't logical to travel in Ecto-1 if she wanted to move without attracting attention. She'd tried looking for a car she could hotwire, but the only other vehicles within a ten-block radius of the waterfront were burnt shells or missing tires and/or engines.

She trudged back to the warehouse and dove into working on the old clunker's engine. The car's radio didn't work; there were no mp3 players or portable satellite radios anywhere in the warehouse that Holtzmann could find. She finally stumbled upon an old c.d. player that had a Johnny Cash c.d. permanently stuck inside. That was fine; listening to the late singer croon about "empires of dirt" suited her sour mood.

She was concentrating on her work and failed to notice the trio of ghosts approaching until Jagannath suddenly emerged from the center of the engine to startle her. She glared at the spook. "I put ghosts in the chipper back on my Earth you know…and I carry two proton pistols."

Jagannath grinned, displaying his fangs. "Jagannath is friend, Honored One."

"Yeah, but every time you say that, I still feel like you're going to eat me," she told the creature. "Aren't you supposed to be looking for my medallion?"

The ghost somehow interpreted that as permission to hug her. Seeing him coming, Holtzmann tried to duck out of the way, "No, no, no, no, no…"

She ended up slimed again, and the ghost happily bobbed out of her reach. "Okay, I give up: Why am I the 'Honored One'?"

Jagannath zig-zagged overheard. "Die for us."

"That was Jillian Spengler, not me," Holtzmann reminded him. "Have you seen her…you know, on your side?"

"Went someplace else," the ghost answered. "Place of light."

"You got something against Burl Ives or Trans-Siberian Orchestra? It's Christmas morning, you know." Ray's cheerful boom interrupted them. He was padding out to join her, walking barefoot on the fallen snow no less, carrying two steaming mugs.

"Humbug," she countered.

Ray leaned against the fender, offering one of the mugs to her. "That's the attitude of someone in need of a Starbuck's run. Coffee?"

"No, thanks. Coffee makes me weird."

"It's decaf," he tempted her.

"Decaf is pointless," she huffed.

Ray ordered her: "Drink it, brat. Your nose is red. You shouldn't be out in this weather without a coat."

With a groan of exasperation, Holtzmann pulled herself from under the hood, wiping grease onto her already-slimed coveralls, and accepted the mug. " _You're_ barefoot."

"I'm old. I'm allowed to be eccentric." He leaned down to inspect her work on the car. "Where were you running away to?"

She set the mug aside. "Don't talk to me like I'm a teenager running away from home, Uncle Ray."

"No, you're a rational thirty-year-old running away from home." He picked up a wrench and started fiddling with the spark plugs. "Egon got to you, didn't he?"

Holtzmann winced; Ray saw it from the corner of his eye. "Listen, kid, you can't take your old man too much to heart. You know how he gets."

She slammed her hands against the fender, "No. I really don't."

It was his turn to cringe. "Sorry. Slip of the tongue. I forgot."

They worked in silence for a minute, Holtzmann still fuming. Ray tried again. "Not the family reunion you expected?"

"Actually," she admitted, "it's almost exactly what I expected. It's my fault. It was my fucking Christmas wish. The way mom- _my_ mom-talks about him, and you, and Uncle Winston and Uncle Peter. And does anyone expect a mystical space rock to drop them into a parallel universe? Anyone other than a Ghostbuster?"

Ray made a mental note to tell his friend to stop being such an ass to the girl. "It's the shock, Jillian. Egon analyzes the crap out of things. It's how he handles it when things get real."

 _Yeah, Erin was the same way,_ Holtzmann thought.

"I can't imagine how I'd have handled it if I lost Ryan…" Ray said. _Especially not after losing Carla. That had been devastating enough._

"…and his counterpart showed up?" she finished for him.

He nodded. None of them had been prepared for losing Jillian. Egon and Janine had simply…stopped…for the longest time. They barely talked to anyone, including each other. They had retreated to their home in the suburbs of New York City and not left for over a year. Ray had delivered groceries, helped with errands, and done everything he could for his friends, aching to know there was nothing he could truly do to comfort them. Winston and Kim visited them frequently, whether Egon and Janine wanted it or not.

Peter had done what Peter did best: Lashed back at the S.D.A.. He'd stolen every file relating to what happened to Jillian and dumped them onto the Internet, effectively ending Director Walter Peck's career. He'd used every political connection the Ghostbusters had gained in their thirty years to try to gain appointment into the Director's position himself, trusting only himself to rein in the Agency's extreme tactics.

In the end, Peter lost his bid to Rebecca Gorin, who served until Director Gilbert eventually took control. After that, Peter had dropped off the map, avenging his goddaughter the only way he could-by going underground and becoming the worst pain in the S.D.A.'s ass. The Ghostbusters had lost track of him, but every time an S.D.A. program was stolen, a new weapon prototype sabotaged, information on a radical action leaked to social media, they knew he was behind it.

The spark plugs won the tug-of-war Ray was having trying to loosen them. He gave up and tossed the wrench aside. "This baby was old when I bought it thirty years ago-and we can't exactly go shopping for parts with the S.D.A. looking for us."

Holtzmann grinned at him. "Depends on where you shop."

He raised an eyebrow.

"You up for a little yuletide dumpster diving?" she asked.

"I'll get my shoes. And let's roll this thing back into the garage before one of the S.D.A. drones spots it."

GBGBGBGBGBGB

 _Christmas Eve morning at the New York MTA could suck the cheer out of Buddy the Elf, Patty mused. One would think that people would attempt to be more cheerful on the holiday, but they seemed to think being in a hurry made it okay to behave like complete douches._

 _She was trying her best to pay them no mind as she dutifully doled out tickets and answered their surly questions. She was a subway worker in New York City. She'd already heard every kind of insult that a New Yorker could dish out (and that was saying quite a bit). Scrooges weren't going to ruin her holiday. She had her tiny ceramic Christmas tree from QVC glowing brightly at her booth, garland strung around the tiny area (against her supervisor's wishes), and her tiny radio was belting out Christmas tunes._

 _In a few hours, she'd be at church for Christmas Eve services. After that, she'd be at Uncle Bill's house baking cookies and watching Jo Rita try to manage all thirteen of the small children from their extended family, since she was in charge of the kids' table this year. Patty would spread as much Christmas cheer as she could until then, so she greeted the passengers with a "Merry Christmas", regardless of whether they responded with a "Bah Humbug" or gave her the finger._

" _Ah, Patricia, spending your Christmas Eve toiling for the unappreciative."_

 _Patty recognized the strange, curly-haired man who'd spoken. He worked at the Higgins Institute according to the badge that he wore every day when she saw him. This was the first time he'd spoken to her. She gave him a brilliant holiday smile: "Hey! How ya doing, baby? Merry Christmas!"_

 _He smiled, which somehow just made him look feral. She worked hard to hold the smile, though her stomach suddenly knotted._

" _You are a pearl in a world of swine," he complimented her. "Take heart—when the Fourth Cataclysm comes, laborers such as yourself will be among the last lead to the butchery. So, make the most of your extra time."_

 _Patty was pretty sure that she wasn't keeping her smile entirely. "And you have a strange way with words. You need a token? Higgins Institute, right?"_

" _Indeed, I do." He passed a five dollar bill to her, taking the tokens. "Merry Christmas to you, Patricia. You've always been very kind to me."_

 _Before he turned to go, he dropped passed another item through the window in the booth. It was a tiny box. Patty could guess it was jewelry._

" _Oh, hey, I'm sorry. I can't accept this-" She put her ear to the box, checking to make sure it wasn't ticking. It rattled like jewelry, but that didn't mean it couldn't be laced with some kind of biological crap like anthrax. She hesitated before risking a look._

 _It wasn't a bomb or a chemical weapon that she could tell. It was a big, gaudy necklace with some ugly green stone._

" _No, no, I can't accept this-" When she looked up, the strange man was gone. "Sir? Weird dude?" Patty shook her head. "That little man is not okay. Nice taste in jewelry, but not okay." She needed to call someone about him. The police. Homeland Security. Bellevue._

 _She chased after the man in time to see one of the trains whisk him away._

 _Sighing, she pocketed the necklace, debating whether to call security to take the necklace and check out the strange man or whether to simply wait for him (he always returned on the six o'clock train) and return the necklace. Of course, the latter would make her late to church and to her family dinner._ _Maybe it could wait until after Christmas..._

GBGBGBGBGBGB

Egon had become unaccustomed to waking to the faint thrum of music.

 _She's really here._ He hadn't dreamed it.

He didn't listen to music anymore. The only c.d. player in the warehouse had sat on a shelf in his lab for five years, gathering dust. It hadn't found its way into a dumpster because it had been Jillian's. He couldn't bear to part with it; unfortunately, he could not bear to hear the music either. Peter's old Johnny Cash c.d. was still stuck in the player.

 _Jillian had teased them that it was "old fart music". Peter had taken offense: "You're off-spring has no appreciation for the classics, Spengs! Look who I'm talking to—he probably doesn't know who Johnny Cash is."_

 _Egon had insisted: "I'm not uninformed, Peter, simply uninterested. Surely you can debate a college student without my assistance?" He had offered his daughter a wink as the two of them worked at repairing one of the broken proton accelerators for the hundredth time._

" _You know who does a good version of 'Folsom Prison Blues'? Russell Crowe," Jillian had baited Peter._

 _Venkman looked as if he might be ill. "Russell-I can't work in these conditions Winston! Are you listening to this? Do we have any Tylenol around here? Or really strong whiskey?"_

Egon pushed back the memory. He didn't want it, nor did he want the pulse of music emanating from the lower level of the warehouse. If Janine heard it-

-Janine was not in the bed. Her side hadn't been slept in.

Sighing, Egon climbed out of bed and padded out of the room, knowing where he'd find his wife.

Sure enough, she was curled up asleep beside the bunk that Dr. Holtzmann had borrowed. Egon let her sleep, hoping she'd be more sensible about the situation in the clear light of morning (a ridiculous expression-morning light did not aide in rationality if it was not preceded by a decent resting period).

In the hallway, Egon walked to stand at the railing, looking down upon the lower level lab and garage. A blast of cold air from the open garage doors gave him gooseflesh. He wished he'd thought to throw a bathrobe over his flannel pajamas.

Jillian— _Holtzmann_ -and Ray were at Stantz's workstation, obviously cleaning up scavenged parts for Ecto-1. The blaring music drowned out whatever they were so animatedly discussing. Ray bobbed his head in time to the music as he alternated between working at his table and ducking under the car hood. Holtzmann moved to the peg board, selected a tool, moved back to the bench, and fussed over the engine parts, choreographing her movements as spontaneous, random dance steps as she worked.

It was so much like his Jillian that Egon's breath hitched in his chest. So much like countless mornings shouting for his daughter to turn down her music when he and Janine wanted to sleep late, or finding Jillian in her dorm room swaying to the music while she worked over bits of machinery, or listening to her latest debate with Peter over 'classical' music the morning that the S.D.A. fired up the device that killed her…

Egon lost track of how long he stood there watching before the quiet voice from behind him interrupted: "Kind of like the old days, isn't it?" Janine wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her chin on his shoulder and following his gaze to the younger woman.

"She's not our daughter, Janine."

Janine made a noise in her throat and pulled away. "Really, Egon? Because you haven't already mentioned that a million times! Maybe she's not our daughter, but she's as close as we're going to get…she's still Jillian. And she's here. Can't you be grateful for a miracle when you get one?"

"It's not a miracle, Janine. It's the paranormal. It's ancient curses and spectral artifacts screwing with our lives just like it has since the day we started chasing ghosts!" Egon snapped. "I don't intend to become attached to a doppelganger. She'll never be my daughter, my little girl! I don't want to experience that pain again. I don't want _you_ to hurt like that again, Janine. Do you remember? Because I do. I remember sitting in her room all night with you laying on the floor crying and nothing I could do to console you. I remember wishing a rocket from one of those S.D.A. drones would find me, or Gozer would come back to finish me, or a damn meteor would fall on me, anything to stop the pain. I cannot survive that again! You can't! And we absolutely will, Janine, because _we can't keep her_!"

Janine's voice was icy. Venomous. "How fucking dare you ask me if I remember how it felt to lose my child. Do you think I don't still feel it every day?!"

He backed off immediately.

"There's no way to send her back to her universe. Didn't you say that?" she pressed.

"I also said 'apocalyptic consequences' if she's removed from her timeline, but you don't seem bothered by that." Egon took her by the arm and ushered her away from the railing, not wanting the woman in the garage to overhear them. "Janine, she has a family and friends in her world."

"Who won't remember her if she's been pulled from their timeline-"

"Possibly. But, there is another Janine somewhere who just had her daughter removed from her life. I have to believe, on some level, that she's aware of that loss-subconsciously or otherwise. I have to believe that, if we were in her place, we would know something was missing." Egon took a deep breath. He needed to express himself better than this. "Our daughter is gone. How could we ever want anyone else to know how that feels?"

He leaned against the wall. "I laid awake most of the night thinking about this, Janine. I share your wish that Dr. Holtzmann- _Jillian_ -could stay in this dimension and we could somehow pretend we were a family again. No apocalyptic consequences. No people left behind in her world to miss her. I want to be that selfish."

Janine was willing to hear him out. "But?"

He gazed at her sadly. "She's on the S.D.A.'s DX-4 list-'contain at all costs by any means necessary'. Including termination. She's not safe here. They'll never stop chasing her."

She started to argue, but the words died on her lips. He was right.

"There was one inescapable fact: Jillian remembers. She will remember. She'll remember that _her_ mother is out there waiting for her. She will mourn her Janine. She will mourn for her friends because even if they exist here, they are different people. If I had no other reason to do everything in my power to send her back to her timeline, my little girl's happiness would be reason enough."

His wife absorbed all this, looking devastated. "You picked a shitty time to go with emotional arguments instead of logic, Spengler." She closed the distance between them and hugged him, remaining in Egon's embrace as she resigned herself to the fact that he was right. "Do me a favor though?"

"Anything."

She gave him a stern glare. "Your daughter accidentally crossed into our timeline because she wished to spend just one day with her father. Stop being such an asshole to her before she regrets it more than she already does."

Janine left him to ponder that while she headed downstairs to join Jillian and Ray.

GBGBGBGBGBGBGB

 _Rowan wasn't scheduled to come to work on Christmas Eve, to Abby's relief. She had no idea what to expect from him-and she was still deeply disturbed by her conversation with Rowan._

 _The night before, Abby had gone straight from work to the nearest bar. Two beers later, she had reached one unavoidable conclusion: She had to fire Rowan. She never should have hired him in the first place. There had been something odd about the man the day she interviewed him. Her instincts warned her, and she hadn't listened out of desperation for help with her work._

 _She just had no idea how to do get rid of him without ending up as some murder/suicide victim on the ten o'clock news. Now, there she was, spending her Christmas Eve puttering around her lab, alone, rehearsing ways to dismiss her assistant and still survive to see New Year's Day._

 _The beep of her cell phone made her nearly jump out of her skin. Abby checked the number, dreading that it was Rowan calling to see when she was coming back to the lab. She was relieved-but perplexed-to see "Columbia University" on the caller i.d. screen. Maybe someone from a respectable institute was finally responding to her book or the papers she'd published online. That would have been a nice Christmas gift._

" _Abby Yates."_

" _Abby?! Was that some kind of joke?! Because I don't appreciate stalkers and psychopaths in my office, especially on Christmas Eve eve-" an irritated, vaguely familiar female voice immediately scolded her._

 _Abby interrupted: "Who is this?"_

" _You know perfectly well who this is!"_

 _No, she sincerely did not know._

" _What were you planning?" the woman continued to rant. "Get your little friend to lure me to his lab to see ghosts and what…you pop out and scare the shit out of me? Or film me and post it on You Tube? 'Ghost Girl Still Crazy After All These Years' or some bullshit thing like that? I actually care about my tenure-"_

 _Ghost girl? Abby frowned. "Erin?"_

 _Erin raged over the phone: "Do you know how hard I've worked to get my tenure? To put that book and all this ghost business behind me? If you and your creepy little assistant do anything to ruin this for me, I will come down to that so-called 'institute' of yours and pull your eyebrows off with my bare hands-"_

" _Whoah, whoah, wait!" Abby shouted over Erin's tirade. "Are you talking about Rowan? He came to see you? When?"_

" _You're going to tell me you had nothing to do with that?" Erin didn't believe her._

" _What exactly did Rowan say to you?"_

 _Erin took a deep breath to calm herself. She supposed it was possible that Rowan had visited without Abby's knowledge, in which case her old friend needed to know what kind of freak she had in her lab. "Something about charging ley lines and opening the spectral barrier. He wanted me to come see the machine he built to do it. You can't seriously be considering-"_

 _Abby interrupted. "What machine?"_

" _I don't know, Abby! When creepy little men want me to go to some basement to see their magic machine, for the sake of my survival I don't usually say 'yes'." Erin was off on a rant: "How do you keep finding these crazy people? Do they come off the street or do you run an ad for psychotic lab assistants on Craigslist?"_

" _It was 'awesomejobs-dot-com ," Abby corrected._

" _Whatever. I just called to say keep your freaky boy toy away from me-and if he knows your home address, I'd sleep with a baseball bat by your bed. Good-bye."_

 _Her finger was poised to disconnect the call when she heard: "Erin, wait—"_

" _What?" she snapped._

" _I'm sorry about Rowan bothering you but-did Rowan say which basement?" Abby wanted to know._

" _I didn't ask."_

 _Basement. Rowan couldn't have access to very many basements, Abby thought. In fact, there was only one logical basement for him to use._

 _Erin heard the phone click in response. "Abby? Hello?"_

 _Her screen read: Call ended._

 _Erin put her phone away. She hoped Abby got the point that Erin didn't appreciate pranks…_

 _She hoped Abby wasn't going to go looking for that freak's basement machine. Abby sounded like she really didn't know about Rowan's visit, the machine, or the basement. She wouldn't go chasing after that creep? Not alone? Would she? Because that would have been foolish and dangerous…_

 _And she absolutely was going to chase the freak. Damn it. Erin knew she would. Erin paced the office, wondering why she cared. Abby wasn't Erin's problem any more. She was not going to get sucked into Abby's insane little world again. She wasn't. She was going to the mall to stare at the blonde elf._

 _Let Abby clean up her own mess. Rowan was Abby's problem, not Erin's._

 _Not. Her. Problem._

" _Shit." Erin grabbed her purse and raced out of the office as quickly as possible in her high heels. She hoped there was a sporting goods store somewhere between Columbia University and the Higgins Institute that was open on Christmas Eve._

GBGBGBGBGBGB

"Janine! Merry Christmas Eve! There's coffee if you want some," Ray shouted above the din of the music.

She made a beeline for Jillian and embraced the younger woman. "Morning. What are you wearing?" Janine noticed that Holtzmann had traded her orange-striped coveralls for one of the spare jumpsuits from the uniform closet. It was one of Janine's old suits from her time as a Ghostbuster. She knew Jillian would have picked it because it was the only one that would fit her tiny frame, but Janine still felt a swell of pride seeing her daughter wearing her old uniform. "What happened?"

"Jagannath hug," Ray said.

"Ah." Janine had been on the receiving end of ghost hugs. They always ended in a puddle of slime. She turned to the work bench where Jillian was laboring. "What's all this?" Ray's table was covered with auto parts, scrap metal, wires, pipes, and computer parts.

Holtzmann was proud of their haul. "We went dumpster diving. It's my own Black Friday. Also, it's the only way I can get parts for our gear without begging Homeland Security for funds. I don't want them saying my inventions belong to them." After the incident with Voga Ra'El, the Ghostbusters flat out didn't trust their government partners anymore.

"Show her the visor," Ray prompted Holtzmann.

She raised an eyebrow at Janine. "Yeah?" When the older woman nodded, Holtzmann picked up Ray's old Ecto-goggles. She's been alternating repairing the car and tinkering with the glasses. It looked to Janine like Jillian had completely broken down the goggles and reassembled them with an old cellphone and circuit boards (and possibly pieces of an old Viewmaster toy).

Holtzmann slid the visor over Janine's eyes. "I call it a Multi-Spectrum Visor. Sounds better than a 'Spector Detector'. Go ahead, give it a test spin-try pointing it at Slimer over there." Jillian motioned to the ghost, who was currently attempting to eat every bit of food from the kitchen refrigerator.

Janine fingered the 'on' button. "Okay-"

Slimer appeared as a green blob (not too different from his normal appearance). However, Janine jumped a bit to see a half-dozen more blobs of color gliding around the warehouse. Some were human-shaped, some distinctly inhuman like Slimer and Jagannath. Most glowed reddish-brown on the display. One or two showed purple.

"What am I looking at?" Janine asked nervously.

Holtzmann grinned. "You're looking at ghosts that don't manifest in the visible spectrum. Little something I invented when I was in a coma-"

Janine ripped off the glasses. " _What?!_ "

"Did I say 'coma'? I mean Colorado. I was in Colorado," Holtzmann cleared her throat.

Ray patted her shoulder. "Smooth."

"I would be interested to try the visor."

The trio turned to find Egon standing beside the work bench. He extended a hand, indicating the visor Janine held. "There are proven incidents of ghosts not visible to the naked eye being captured on old fashioned film, of course. I presume that was your starting point for this device? If I may?"

Swallowing down a sudden knot of anxiety, Holtzmann took the goggles from Janine and passed them to Egon. She had no idea why her father's approval—or lack thereof-was making her nervous, why she cared at all what he thought. But, she did.

Egon's expression was completely neutral as he slipped on the visor. "Have you studied the phenomena to determine which types of specters will manifest in which part of the spectrum? Egon wanted to know. He'd considered such modifications to the Ecto-goggles many times, but somehow the occasion to actually rebuild the visor never came around. He and Jillian had tinkered together with upgrades to the proton packs and other gears on the rare weekends that she could slip away from her work at the S.D.A. for a visit.

After Jillian's death, Egon had boxed up all the old gear and stored it away with no desire to see any of it again.

He returned the goggles to her and returned to the work bench. He found the old proton pack that she'd started upgrading with dumpster scraps. What unsettled him was that Dr. Holtzmann seemed to have been duplicating Jillian's ideas for the pack right down to adding the radioactive label with a heart at the center.

"Coma ghosts will manifest blue. Very important to know, since trapping them is fatal to their bodies. We want to avoid that. Anything that manifests red or brown can't be contained in a normal trap because they can phase into parallel dimensions at will. You need to modify the trap to anchor them in our dimension and a modified containment unit to hold them."

Egon was impressed despite himself. "How many versions of the trap and containment unit have you produced?"

She pursed her lips, counting: "Four operational traps and a fifth that I can't use by order of the Governor of Michigan. I kind of caused a little spectral invasion in Lansing. It was awesome. Three separate containment levels within one central unit."

Egon was staring at her now with a weird expression. Holtzmann figured 'weird' was an improvement over angry and suspicious. "Um, sorry about the pack. I was just interested in the design." Holtzmann couldn't tell what Egon was thinking at all, which was making her nervous all over again. She glanced at Janine, who simply rolled her eyes and shook her head at his behavior.

Winston's cheerful baritone drew their attention to the garage door. He had parked at the side of the warehouse and was now lugging several garishly wrapped boxes and bags into the building, singing: "On the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me, three gifts for GBs, two pretty ladies…" He winked at Janine and Holtzmann. "…and a sourpuss in a sulk…" He directed the last bit at the scowling Egon as he distributed gifts to the group. "Merry Christmas Eve! You need to close the doors. The S.D.A. has drones flying all over the city."

Ray hurried to do so.

"Winston's right. No more shop talk." She went upstairs and returned with the gift that Holtzmann had left behind. "You didn't open your present."

Holtzmann tried to refuse politely. "I-Janine-I can't. It's-"

Janine understood her hesitation. "Weird? Creepy? Norma Bates time? Relax. It's new. I had Jagannath and Slimer pick it up this morning."

"How'd they shop this morning? All the stores are closed."

Janine blinked innocently. "What's your point?"

Holtzmann grinned. "Nice…but you shouldn't have."

"Yes. I should have."

At Winston and Janine's unwavering insistence, the work on resolving the problem of the missing Cintamani medallion and the S.D.A. was put on hold long enough for breakfast and gifts. Janine's gift for Holtzmann was a plush cat whose angelic face turned demonic when its stomach was squeezed. It reminded Jillian of her Mr. Snickers bear back home. Winston had brought Holtzmann a sweater and pants intended to be his niece, Jo Rita's, gift. Since Jo Rita wouldn't be coming to visit until after the New Year, Winston had time to replace the items. Jillian needed the change of clothing more.

He's give Ray the customary box of cigars, but chastised his friend again to quit smoking. The group had already endured Janine's ovarian cancer scare, they didn't want the same scare with Ray's health. Egon's gift was an utterly ridiculous scarf that the group was going to enjoy forcing him to wear.

Winston made a point to bring gifts that would inject levity into the holiday because the last few Christmases had been hard for the Ghostbusters. The first two years after Jillian's death, Janine and Egon refused to celebrate the holiday no matter how their friends begged. Ray had gone through the same deep spiral after Carla's death, but celebrated Christmas for the sake of his son. He had kept Egon and Janine company on those two bleak Christmases without a word of complaint.

The box from Janine contained a Ghostbusters action figure. Holtzmann tried not to laugh, but the thing was so tacky and its computerized voice squeaked "Who you gonna call?" in a tone that sounded like one of the Chipmunks. "Oh my god, is this da—Egon?" she asked.

Egon, if possible, was more disgruntled over the toy than his ugly scarf. "That is completely unlicensed merchandise. It looks and sound nothing like me. I would prefer to have my likeness on a toy of educational value…"

Winston, Ray, and Janine made no effort to disguise their amusement. "You dad absolutely hates these things," Ray told Holtzmann, as if that were not apparent.

"People love you, Egon," Holtzmann consoled him, gleefully hugging the action figure.

Egon's cell phone beeped for a Skype call. "Thank God," he muttered, happy to have an excuse to remove the scarf and end the discussion of his doll.

There was no location or i.d. for the call and it was coming through Egon's encryption program so that it couldn't be traced. It could only be one of two people. Egon snapped his fingers for the group's attention, which signaled Ray, Winston, and Janine that it was an emergency call.

Patty Tolan's face appeared on the screen. If she were risking an actual conversation instead of a page, it had to be a matter of supreme importance, Egon knew. "Patricia?"

At the name, Holtzmann moved to stand as close to him as she dared, trying to see over his shoulders.

"Unc, I've only got a minute. You've got trouble heading your way. Erin knows about that medallion thing that brought Jillian into this dimension."

Holtzmann felt the first surge of hope since waking up in this reality…immediately followed by dread. "Does she have it?" Jillian had to interrupt.

"I thought you all had it? The ghosts took it."

Egon snapped, "What?!" He looked around, shouting for Slimer and Jagannath, who were suddenly nowhere to be found. "They didn't bring it to us."

"Well, figure out what they did with it, cause Erin's got the high up mucky mucks convinced you can use it to alter our timeline or create a time paradox or something," Patty warned. "They upgraded the DX-4 to include all of you. Every agent in the field is working on tracking you down. If they don't know where you are, they will by the end of the day."

"Patricia, are you safe?" Winston asked her. She was risking her cover to warn them. It had taken a great deal of time and difficulty to conceal that Patty was part of Winston's extended family. If the Director found out she was the Ghostbusters contact in the Agency, the DX-4 order would include Patty as well.

"Don't worry about us." Patty's gaze shifted to the blonde woman who was peering at her from behind Egon. It really was unsettling how identical Holtzmann was to Patty's adopted cousin. Patty had no qualms risking her own life to prevent the S.D.A. from getting their hands on this Jillian, too.

"Patty, get out of there," Holtzmann urged.

"We'll be fine. It's about time to check out Canada or Mexico anyway. Just take care of yourselves," Patty winked at her, then disconnected the call. Holtzmann wasn't sure who "us" was, but logic told her it had to be Patty and Abby, since they'd both helped her escape the agency.

Janine was terrified-and furious. Those bastards at the S.D.A. were not taking her child. Not again.

Ray was puzzled. "I don't understand why Slimer and Jag didn't bring the medallion back to us."

Holtzmann rushed back to the worktable and began assembling a welcoming present for the S.D.A. drones and anyone else that showed up on their doorstep. It was one thing for Evil Blonde Erin to come after her. Coming after her family was another story.

The others were conferencing. "We need to get Jillian someplace safe," Janine said.

"Across the border, like Patricia suggested," Ray added.

"The only safe place for Dr. Holtzmann is back in her own dimension," Egon disagreed.

Janine threw up her hands. "Well, we don't have that magic medallion, so that's not an option, is it?"

It was then that they noticed Holtzmann had abandoned them for her work. "Jillian, what are you doing?" Ray asked, moving to come watch.

"The weapons you have only work on ghosts," she answered. "At least, I'm guessing you don't want to disintegrate a person or burn them alive?"

Winston nodded. "No, we don't want to do that."

"Kinda figured that's where the line would be." Holtzmann held up the device she'd jury-rigged in the five-minute interval. It was the same design as the paperweight she'd given her mother-doorbell shaped with small antenna around its circumference. However, this one was no paperweight.

She swiftly built four more, showing Ray and Egon how to help. When they finished, Holtzmann led the group outside to set the tiny traps around the perimeter of the warehouse. She set the last one on the dirt road that led down to the warehouse. "This won't stop them for long, but it will slow them down."

They'd barely finished before the first black dots-drones-appeared on the horizon, buzzing the distance rooftops of the city skyline. Ray swallowed. "I'd say they figured out where we are. Next thing in that sky is going to be an S.D.A. helicopter. We've got to go."

Janine headed back to the warehouse. "I'll get the car."

Ray went with her to gather up the essential supplies they would need if they were to be on the run. He also wanted to call Ryan and warn him that the agency could show up on his son's doorstep if they were now searching for Ray.

Jagannath and Slimer returned, a half dozen more ghosts of assorted shapes and sizes joining them. The specters glided in frenzied circles in the air, keening warnings to the humans below.

"Slimer, Jag-what did you do with the Cintamani?!" Egon shouted to them.

The specters ignored him. Forming a "V", the ghosts flew to intercept the oncoming drones.

GBGBGBGBGBGBGB

From the non-descript black van, Special Agent Kevin Beckman watched the video feeds from the dozens of drones that combed the city.

As a child growing up in Australia, Kevin had loved American cop shows- _Adam-12, Law and Order, 21 Jump Street_ , he'd seen them all. _The Fugitive_ had been one of his favorite movies. When he'd come to America to pursue his acting career, he'd auditioned for such television shows. He'd even tried for the _21 Jump Street_ movie, losing out to that Channing Tatum bloke.

He'd needed something to occupy his time between auditions. His roommate had been a computer programmer with an affection for drones. He'd started teaching Kevin. To Beckman's surprise, he'd had a knack for computer technology.

It was his roommate who suggested that Kevin's interests-law enforcement shows and computer technology-might have more practical applications than a Hollywood career.

Years later, here he was-Kevin Beckman, the S.D.A.'s foremost fugitive retrieval specialist. Most of the time, he brought his targets back alive.

Most of the time.

The work was tedious, but he could entertain himself with video games while the machines did their work. Beginning at midnight with New York City, the drones had conducted a meticulous sweep of every street and the surrounding suburbs. Each drone had been fitted with miniature PKE scanners and sensors that could be programmed to scan for any particular form of radiation that he wanted. Director Gilbert had said to look for temporal radiation, so that was what he programmed into the machines.

By dawn, the machines had inspected New York City and Manhattan, eventually discerning a faint trail of said temporal radiation. It led them inexorably to a waterfront warehouse district in northeastern New Jersey.

When the horde of ghosts appeared on the monitors, closing in on the drones, he knew he'd found the Ghostbusters. He set aside the video game controllers to give the mission his full attention.

He counted six ghosts flying interference against the airborne machines. Kevin calculated the odds of six ghosts versus two dozen drones. The specters would be fast, but there was still an 81.6% chance of at least five drones making it to whichever warehouse was hiding his targets. A simple blast from their ultrasonics would render the humans inside unconscious, but alive. Kevin would only need to direct the field agents to pick up the prisoners afterwards.

He preferred such surgical strikes versus messy hand-to-specter combat. However, he was prepared for that possibility should the drones fail.

The ghosts took out the first half-dozen drones in a matter of seconds by tearing into the machines with talons and fangs or by catching them mid-air and dashing them to pieces against the sides of buildings or by grabbing the machines and diving to the pavement full-speed, smashing the drones. A half-dozen more devices were out of commission within three minutes.

Kevin activated the drones' weapons. The drones deployed small cannons that fired streams of neutrinos directly into the flock of specters. Two exploded into showers of slime at once.

"Hmmf," Kevin's mouth twitched. He keyed the cameras of the drone that was now closest to the source of the temporal radiation. Zooming in on that warehouse, he could make out people standing in front of the building, watching the battle. Facial recognition software called up their faces one by one: _Egon Spengler, Ghostbuster; Winston Zeddemore, Ghostbuster; Jillian Spenger, S.D.A. Engineer_.

Kevin keyed in corrected information to the drone's database: _Jillian Holtzmann, Ghostbuster. Primary target._

The machine adjusted its trajectory and set course directly for the blonde woman.

She didn't move. Holtzmann was staring directly at the drones, but she stood her ground. Kevin was impressed, interested to see why she was so confident.

Two hundred yards out, the monitors for the three lead drones whited out: _Signal Lost._

Kevin called up the camera feed from the drones not yet dispatched by the specters. He watched as the next wave of drones closed in on the warehouse.

An electrical barrier appeared, generated by small, round devices that had been set on the ground not far from where Holtzmann watched the ghost/drone dogfight. The snapping beams of energy obliterated the drones.

"Ooh, clever," Kevin chuckled. He programmed the remaining six drones to circle around and approach the warehouse from alternate directions. The result was the same. Holtzmann had surrounded the building with her tiny traps. The stray drones that made it past the barrier were dispatched by Holtzmann, Spengler, and Zeddemore with their antiquated, but effective, proton weapons.

Kevin was out of drones, but not out of options. _If you want something done right, do it yourself._

He climbed out of the van and circled to the trailer that it towed, pausing only long enough to pull the radio from his belt. "All units, converge on the waterfront. Holtzmann's at a warehouse off Pier 41. I am two minutes out."

Kevin opened the trailer doors. The shiny black motorcycle, modified with the same tracking devices as the drones and a few other surprises, was ready for him.

He smiled at the machine. "Hello, baby."

GBGBGBGBGBGB

Holtzmann frowned, watching the ghosts battle the S.D.A. drones. The machines were using technology based off the Ghostbusters' weapons and her own ghost grenades. They were using weapons Jillian Spengler had built, using them now to come after Jillian's family. The notion pissed off Holtzmann to no end.

Egon grabbed Jillian's arm, urging her towards the garage. "We have to go!"

 _Where could they go_? Holtzmann didn't voice the question. She could see black SUVs approaching from all directions, cutting off their escape routes.

The remaining ghosts-Jagannath, Slimer, Arlo, and two others-moved to intercept the oncoming vehicles now. Slimer rammed one vehicle, dousing the windshield in ectoplasm and then the driver. Sufficiently blinded, he lost control of the car and drove into a power pole. The airbag only added injury to insult, but he and the woman in the passenger seat survived.

Jagannath targeted the engine block of another SUV, letting fly with his claws, shredding hoses and essential parts until smoke billowed and the engine failed. The vehicle swerved into a newsstand, which was fortunately unmanned since it was Christmas morning.

Jagannath and Slimer double-teamed the next vehicle. Slimer coated the windows in goo while Jagannath ripped at the axels with talons and psychokinetic energy, bending it to his will. The vechicle careened into the fourth S.D.A. car, disabling both vehicles.

That was when Holtzmann heard the roar of a motorcycle. It was black like the other S.D.A. machines, but had the mobility to evade the oncoming ghosts. When the trio of specters came at him head on, the driver withdrew something from his jacket and flung it at the ghosts. Slimer and Jagannath saw the danger and veered away quickly.

Arlo vanished in the explosion of what could only have been one of Holtzmann's ghost grenades.

She squinted at the driver, seeing a familiar head of blonde hair.

It was Kevin coming at them like Arnold Schwarzenegger in _The Terminator_.

"Dr. Holtzmann-we need to go," Egon tugged at her arm, trying to get her to move.

Holtzmann pulled free. Kevin was on a direct course for the trap she had set. If the bike hit that at full speed, it could electrocute him or cause him to lose control. It wouldn't have been as dangerous to a car, but the blast could cause a fatal accident for the man on the motorcycle.

She ran for the trap, but the bike was faster.

Kevin was focused on his prey when he hit Holtzmann's improvised trap. The sudden flash of light blinded him; the pulse of energy ruptured the tires and damaged the motorcycle's engine. He lost control of the machine. The bike zig-zagged, pitching Kevin into a pile of freshly plowed snow seconds before the motorcycle wrapped itself around a street light.

He lay there flat on his back, rubbing at his aching eyes. The circling ghosts—seething about the spectral friends that the S.D.A. had just obliterated-saw their opportunity and descended upon Kevin. Jagannath gave a roar of fury, saber-fangs and claws bared to devour the human.

Holtzmann ran for the fallen figure, screaming at the horde of specters: " _No_!"

Kicking like a turtle, hampered from righting himself by the proton pack slung on his back, he managed to draw his weapon. Still running, Holtzmann still noted that his proton pack was nearly identical to the accelerators she'd created for her team back home.

Kevin fired blindly. He heard the growls of the approaching ghosts, but when Holtzmann screamed, Kevin reflexively pointed the weapon in the direction of the cry and fired. The shot went wild, only scorching the sleeve of her coveralls when she didn't quite manage to feint far enough to avoid the beam.

Egon's felt his heart leap into his throat. " _Jillian_!" He tore after her, with Winston and Ray on his heels.

Ray spied the dark dots on the horizon and cursed. S.D.S. helicopters. "We don't have time for this!" he shouted a warning.

Standing at the door to the warehouse, Janine drew the same conclusion. She climbed into Ecto-1 and started the engine.

Blinking his vision clear, Kevin squeezed off another shot, forcing Slimer to veer away to avoid being caught by the blast. He let another blob of slime fly, hitting Kevin in the face, blinding the human a second time just as Jagannath descended upon Kevin. " _Protect Honored One_!" the ghost snarled, raising his claws.

"No!" Holtzmann threw herself over Kevin, gambling that the ghosts would not risk hurting her. Jagannath pulled his strike, but the tips of his claws still raked the back of her jumpsuit. She felt the sting of her skin being torn and bit her lip to stifle a yelp of pain. Distantly, she heard Egon shout her name, fear in his voice.

Grunting, she rolled to her side and stared down the blue ghost as it circled Kevin. "No! He's my friend!"

"Protect!" The ghost was emphatic, it's yellow eyes still trained on the fallen man.

"Sorry, 'friend'!" Kevin grabbed Holtzmann and flipped her onto her stomach, pinning her arms behind her back. "You're under arrest."

Feeling him straddling her as he presumably fished for handcuffs, Holtzmann did the only thing she could: She wrestled one arm free of his grip and elbowed him in his groin with all her strength. "I'm sorry, too, pal."

He dropped like the proverbial ton of bricks, clutching the injured area while Jillian pushed herself to her feet. "Ah, geez, that's probably going to hurt for a while, Kev. Here-" She picked up a fistful of snow, grabbed his belt, and shoved the freezing pile down the front of his pants. "-put some ice on it."

Ray and Egon skidded to a stop beside her, nearly losing their footing on the icy pavement. Ray cringed in sympathy for the younger man, but beamed at Holtzmann. "That's our girl!"

Winston grabbed the cuffs out of Kevin's hands and secured him to the demolished motorcycle.

"What did you think you were doing?!" Egon spun Jillian, prodding at the bloody scratches across her back until he was satisfied the wounds weren't life-threatening. The rational part of his brain automatically noted that the wounds would need to be cleaned, especially of the trace ectoplasmic residue, to avoid infection, and that they might require sutures (in which case, Egon would have to perform the procedure because they dared not risk a hospital trip with the S.D.A. searching for them.).

Primarily, however, he could only think: _Thank God she'd thrown herself down with her back to Jagannath. Had she fallen face up, the swipe would have ripped out her throat._

Egon took a deep breath attempting to calm but fear and adrenaline still swam through him so that he barely managed to sputter out: "You could have been killed!"

She flinched at the harsh tone and automatically began to form a smart-ass retort when Egon pulled her into an embrace, mindful of her injury. Holtzmann was so stunned that her words died on her lips. She felt him trembling and realized he wasn't angry. She'd frightened him.

It dawned on her that this was the first time she'd been hugged by her father in either timeline (at least, the first time that she could remember). Hesitantly, she reached up and wrapped her arms around him in return.

The blast of a car horn ended the moment. She immediately pulled away.

"Company's coming. Let's go!" Janine shouted from the driver's seat of Ecto-1. Ray and Winston were already climbing into the back seat.

Egon took Jillian by the elbow and guided her to the passenger door, calling to the ghosts: "Jag, Slimer, keep an eye on our buddies. Don't let them follow us."


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: I still don't own "Ghostbusters" (wish I did). See chapter 1 for full disclaimer._

 **5**

 **One Little Slip**

They'd made their way to Winston's family home in upstate Virginia. He'd promised them that the rustic house was completely off the grid-it ran off solar power and the identity of the homeowner was buried in a sea of trust deeds and other paperwork that would daunt the most persistent bureaucrat.

Jagannath and Slimer had yet to make an appearance. Until they did, the Ghostbusters would not have an answer as to where they'd hidden the Cintamani and why.

Kim Zeddemore had clung to Jillian for a good five minutes. "Winston told me-but I still can't get over it," she said apologetically. Holtzmann had to sit and retell the story for her while the kindly woman plied her with hot tea.

The Ghostbusters had left the warehouse in such a hurry that Holtzmann had forgotten to grab the change of clothing that Winston gave her. Kim brought one of her own sweaters and soft sweat pants, guessing she and Jillian were about the same size, and directed her to the upstairs guest room to change.

Holtzmann was grateful for the opportunity to slip away. Once the adrenaline of the fight with Kevin wore off, the wounds on her back began to throb. She rummaged in the medicine cabinet, hoping the Zeddemores would forgive the intrusion, until she found some ibuprofen and downed a couple of the tablets. They'd stopped at a gas station on the way to the cabin to buy bandages, but the pads were already soaked with blood. Jillian frowned. She was going to need help changing the dressings…

Two large, emerald eyes were suddenly staring back at her from the mirror.

"Where's my ghost rock, you little blue booger?" Holtzmann asked him.

The ghost blinked at her.

"You want to tell me why you hid it?" she persisted.

The ghost actually seemed to be fidgeting. "Protect Honored One."

"That's great. Is that why you ripped up my back? Go ahead, take a look in the mirror. See what a naughty ghost looks like," she scolded the blue ghost.

Jagannath popped out of the mirror, floating behind her to sniff at her shoulders and the bloody bandages. He stared balefully at the human woman. Holtzmann made a point of avoiding eye contact. "Nope. I'm mad at you. You lost my medallion, and you used me for a scratching post. Beat it."

The blue ghost made a pitiful little wail and wrapped itself around her shins like a puppy beseeching attention. He turned his large eyes on her again.

Holtzmann relented. "Fine, I forgive you. Now shoo. I'm not undressing with you in here."

Keening happily, Jagannath glided into the hallway and down the stairs. Seconds later, Jillian heard the folks in the living room shout and the crash of dinner plates being overturned

She decided to forgo the sweater until she could change the bloody bandages. No point in ruining Kim's nice clothing. She put on the sweatpants and threw a towel over her shredded camisole top.

The bandages would have to wait. She wasn't in the mood for more fussing right then. There was a more pressing puzzle that had been vexing her for too long. She didn't like to be vexed. She never let riddles or problems continue unsolved; she made them her bitches.

Hoping again for forgiveness, she found a laptop in one of the bedrooms and cracked the password for the machine after only a couple of attempts. Holtzmann figured she could hack the S.D.A. central server for less than thirty seconds before they'd detect the intrusion, and less than two minutes before they'd trace her location. Conservatively. She'd have to do the best she could.

Ninety seconds later, she disconnected from the government site with the files she wanted. Luckily, the Rorke and Hawkins in this timeline used precisely the same user i.d. and password as their counterparts in Holtzmann's dimension (luckier still that the wonder twins had never got wise to the fact that she'd stolen that information from them the same day they'd dragged the Ghostbusters downtown to be threatened by Mayor Bradley).

Holtzmann knew she wasn't going to like what she found. She was right. The schematics for the weapon that killed Jillian Spengler were right there in the first file.

The file had been created by Dr. Jillian Spengler…and Dr. Arthur Klein.

It was all that Holtzmann needed to see. She could fill in the blanks for herself. She was surprised that she hadn't figured it out from the very beginning.

Holtzmann already knew that Jillian Spengler was part of the Spectral Defense Agency right along with Abby, Erin, and Patty. Jillian had created the weapon that ultimately ended her life. Obviously, that had been an unintentional consequence. Her original schematics called for a device that was simply a larger-scale version of the ghost grenades, meant to fend off a full out invasion of specters. It would have been more efficient than slugging it out with the ghosts in hand-to-hand combat like her team had done during Rowan's cataclysm.

Jillian's mistake had been partnering with Arthur Klein. Holtzmann was willing to bet that Artie had been the one to consent to Director Peck and Senator Gorin's push for an even larger scale weapon with more power, just the same as her Artie had tried to revamp Holtzmann's designs for the Hadron Collider back home. In the end, just as with the collider, Klein's alterations to Spengler's design had caused a catastrophic failure. In this timeline, it was Jillian and not Artie who had been killed preventing the disaster.

Holtzmann sighed. _Even in this universe, the two of them were better sex partners than lab partners_.

Something cold pressed against her back, startling her out of her brooding. She jumped, letting out a sharp yelp. "Mom, I'm f-"

"You're bleeding again."

It was Egon, not Janine. Jillian tried to turn, but he laid a hand on her shoulder, indicating that she should not move. "The wounds are mostly superficial. I was concerned they might require sutures, but I don't think that will be necessary. Good thing-I have no doubt that you could handle it, but if I tried to stitch you up here and now, your mother would have a conniption fit."

He was talking to distract her from the sting as he carefully removed the soiled bandages, washed out the cuts, and applied antibiotic ointment to the torn skin. "What you did was very brave, but extremely dangerous."

"Were you worried, Egon?" she smirked at him.

"Of course. You are my daughter, after all."

The smirk disappeared abruptly.

Egon noted that she'd procured a computer. "I take it you found what you were looking for?"

"We were all part of the S.D.A.-in the beginning." Egon opened the first aid kit and tore open the pack of gauze. "Obviously, Ray, Peter, Winston, and I can't single-handedly protect the entire planet from spectral invasion. We needed help. Besides, the years catch up with you after a while. If the government was set upon creating its own branch devoted to defense against spectral activity, it would make sense for us to act as their consultants. There simply isn't anyone on the planet with as much expertise in that area as the four of us."

Finishing his work, Egon went to the closet and found a bathrobe. He handed it to Holtzmann and sat down on the small bed beside her chair.

"Jillian believed in the humane capture and treatment of ghosts. We raised her that way. She also realized that humane treatment wasn't always an option when dealing with malevolent specters and apocalyptic attacks such as the invasion of Gozer and the Fourth Cataclysm of Rowan North. Her designs were meant for defense, but the S.D.A. intended to pervert them." Egon met Holtzmann's gaze. "Don't judge us too harshly. The S.D.A. got the better of all of us."

She shook her head. "I get it."

"I-regret that you're trapped in our universe, Jillian," he admitted. "I'm sure you miss your friends and family."

She didn't deny it. "Jagannath isn't talking. If we don't figure out how to call off the S.D.A. or get our hands on that Cintamani rock, I'm not going to be in this timeline very long. They'll eventually send a competent agent after me."

"It's critical that the Cintamani stone does not end up in their custody," Egon told her. "Clearly, when we find it, we have to destroy it."

She raised her eyebrow.

"Jillian-of all of us, you understand the ripple effect of one change in the timeline. There's no 'safe' way we could ever use that stone. I want you to promise me, Jillian," Egon took her hand, his expression one of unflinching seriousness.

She was confused. "Promise you what?"

"The Cintamani's not the only artifact capable of reshaping reality to the will of whoever wields it. Promise me that if you find the Cintamani-or any other wish-fulfilling paranormal object-you'll never attempt to use it to bring me back in your timeline? No more wishes to spend time with me, no wishes that I'd never died," he requested.

Holtzmann opened her mouth to retort, but Egon cut her off: "I've considered this since the moment we met yesterday. I believe that there are unalterable points in every timeline, real or potential. I believe that one such point hinges around you and I…our potential deaths. Were you to attempt to bring me—bring _your_ Egon-back into your timeline, your destiny would be altered and your death is a very real potential consequence. I am entirely confident that your father would have preferred his death to yours. Certainly, I would have preferred that my daughter had survived."

He laid a hand on Jillian's cheek his thumb wiping at a stray tear that had fallen. "When we find the Cintamani, use it to return to your home…and then wish it into the heart of the sun if you need to, but promise me you will destroy it."

"Dad-"

"Promise." Egon knelt in front of her chair. His tone was stern and brooked no argument. "Jillian."

She leaned down and put her arms around his neck, hugging fiercely, happy that he returned it.

A wave of dizziness hit her suddenly. It was the same feeling she'd had back at the firehouse when she was pulled into this universe.

She sagged forward; Egon felt her falling off her chair and the hug suddenly turned to catching his daughter before she hit the floor. "Jillian?!" He guided her over to sit on the bed, helped her stay upright. She closed her eyes as her vision swam. "What's wrong?" he pressed.

"Have this feeling-" Holtzmann's mind was filling again with images, like two lives flashing before her eyes: She was knocking on Abby's door at the Higgins Institute for the first time, there to apply for the lab assistant job; she was a sixteen-year-old graduating from high school; she was a twelve-year-old, sleeping on the streets of New York with Gary and Marion and her other homeless friends.

Holtzmann tried to shake the onslaught of images from his mind, but it only came faster.

She was freaking Erin out by setting a roll of paper towels on fire with a blow torch; Rorke was pointing at rifle at her while Voga Ra'El controlled her; she was facing giant Ghost Rowan during the Fourth Cataclysm; she was arguing with Arthur Klein about their upgrades to the Large Hadron Collider; Kevin was barbequing Christmas Eve dinner for the Ghostbusters; Abby, Erin, and Patty were leaning over her when she woke up from her coma…

The dizziness did not abate, and more images overwhelmed her: She was sleeping with Artie; doctors at the mental hospital were leaning over her, promising she'd be all right as bright hospital lights blinded her and pain lanced through her body like she was being ripped in half; Kevin was knocking her lab chemicals onto the floor; jabbing the taser-fork against Cousin Barbie's side when the woman wouldn't stop insulting Abby; pulling Erin away from the vortex that Rowan had spawned with his machinery; more doctors and nurses leaning over her, telling her to breathe through the agony because it was "too late to give her anything for the pain"…

Holtzmann's eyes snapped open. _That last memory had not been there before._

Egon felt the tension in her body before she finally opened her eyes. He heard her mutter a curse.

"Jillian?" He pulled back, watching her with concern.

She pushed herself off the bed, still swaying as she got to her feet. "I know where the Cintamani Stone is," Holtzmann told him.

She hurried from the room, Egon on her heels, and raced downstairs to the living room where the rest of their extended family was gathered.

Kim greeted her with a wave. "Jillian! Have some cider-"

Holtzmann didn't appear to have heard her. The younger woman glanced around the room, but didn't see the face she was looking for. She headed to the guest bathroom, which was empty, and then back up the stairs to the bedrooms.

One door was closed and locked. Holtzmann pounded on that door, yelling: "Janine! Mom!"

The others started to follow Holtzmann, but Egon shook his head, waving them off.

"Mom! Whatever you're doing in there, stop! Now!"

She reached to pull one of her hairpins and jimmy the lock, but Egon solved the problem by simply kicking the door open.

Janine was sitting on the bed, the Cintamani medallion in her hand.

GBGBGBGBGBGBGB

 _Abby made her way down to the basement of the Higgins Institute. Surely, if Rowan were doing something weird down there, someone would have noticed by now? If nothing else, the Dean should have stumbled across Rowan's work by now (he had his own personal recording studio in one of these sub-levels, that was common knowledge among the faculty)._

 _As she descended the stairs, Abby could make out the distinct hum of machinery. There's light coming from under the door. She hesitated. She ought to call campus security…except the only guard on duty on Christmas Eve was ninety-years old had a heart condition._

 _Still, she really shouldn't go in there alone, and Abby knew it. This was the Dean's problem. Let him handle it. Except there was no way he'd believe that Abby wasn't involved in whatever Rowan was doing behind this door._

 _She knocked on the door, then wondered why she was knocking. "Rowan? Are you here? Sweetie, I'm not trying to stifle your creativity, but we're definitely going to lose our grant money if you cause the Apocalypse. That's all I'm saying. Rowan?"_

 _There was no answer. She tried the door—it was locked, of course. She tried kicking it like people did in the movies and nearly shattered the bones in her foot. She hopped around on the other foot, cursing, until the throbbing subsided._

" _You need a key."_

 _Abby was fairly sure she was having a heart attack. Her assistant's arrival had been drowned out by the thrum of the machine. "Jeez…Rowan, don't sneak up on me!"_

 _Rowan half-bowed. "My apologies."_

 _She forced a smile, though the way he was staring at her was only making her more nervous. "I was looking for you."_

 _Rowan pursed his lips. "Dr. Gilbert must have informed you of our little conversation. I hope you aren't offended, Abigail, but I did approach you first, if you recall?"_

 _Abby shook her head, sincerely apologetic. "No, no, I get it. I think maybe I dismissed your ideas a little too fast. That wasn't okay, and I'm sorry."_

 _Rowan cocked his head, giving her a quizzical stare. His mouth quirked into a not-quite smile. "I accept your apology."_

" _Oh good." She pointed to the door. "Can I see the machine? I promise to be more open-minded this time."_

 _He was doubtful, but consented. "Of course."_

 _Rowan unlocked the door and led the way into the basement. Abby wondered how she was going to get out of there without dying, but she followed him. Not much else she could do with the fate of the world at stake._

 _Maybe she should have recorded a message on her cell phone so that the school would at least know where to look for her body…_

 _The machine was a gigantic device, part Steampunk, part Jules Verne. Tesla coils sparked with energy. The central component was a boiler that had malfunctioned and been replaced. Abby gaped. "Rowan…"_

 _Rowan spread his arms, gesturing to encompass the giant device proudly. "Breathtaking, isn't it? Would you like to see more?"_

" _No, I'm good…" Abby declined._

 _Ignoring her, Rowan moved to pull back curtains that hung from the walls. Behind the coverings, the room was lined with mirrors…_

… _hundreds of ghosts stared back at Abby from behind the glass._

 _She managed not to scream. Part of her rejoiced that she'd been right all these years—ghosts were real. Then, her common sense reminded her that hundreds of ghosts waiting to cross the spectral barrier into her dimension was the epitome of the word 'bad'. "Oh my god."_

" _I told you that I could help you prove your theories, Abigail. I've been charging the ley lines for weeks now. I was going to surprise you for Christmas."_

" _You definitely did that." Abby struggled to regain her composure. If she betrayed how freaked out she was, there was no telling what Rowan would do. "Can I add a small wrinkle to the plan? Rowan, it's Christmas Eve. I know people can suck. We both get dumped on more than our fair share, but it's still Christmas Eve. Peace and goodwill towards men. Charlie Brown Christmas on t.v.; Santa Claus at the mall. Maybe it's not a good day for the end of the world? Maybe we do it on Tuesday? Next year?"_

 _Rowan was unmoved by the cloying rationalization. "Why put off to tomorrow what you can do today? Do you think those people and their paper-wrapped tributes to avarice make me feel so much as a twinge of sympathy?"_

" _Oh boy, here comes the rant…" Abby braced herself._

" _They gorge themselves and justify it by ladling soup to the destitute. The pile themselves with golden jewelry and congratulate themselves for giving stained and torn leftover clothing to the needy. That's their holiday. My holiday is bringing them the reward their self-preoccupation merits." He gestured to the writhing spirits. The intensity in Rowan's voice increased with each word. "We will show them all the compassion they've ever shown us. We'll give as much mercy as they've given us. The city will be green with the glow of justice and red with the blood of the wreck of humanity…"_

 _Abby's mouth dropped open as she marveled at the true depths of his insanity. "Wow. Just…wow. Okay, stop for a minute. God, I feel like I've had this conversation with you before. Rowan, maybe they're scum, but you're not. I mean, clearly this plan isn't a good example, but I know you've got some shreds of decency left in there somewhere. You don't work with someone for three years and not learn a little about them. What about me? Am I part of the wreck of humanity?"_

 _For just an instant, his gaze softened to something not quite affectionate. "No, which is why I offered you the chance to be at my side for this."_

 _Abby seized on that moment of hesitation. "And that was mighty thoughtful of you. But, if I'm not so wicked, you think maybe there are others who aren't so wicked? Maybe who don't deserve to be butchered?"_

 _Rowan thought for a few seconds. Then he shook his head. "No. Screw them all."_

 _He reached for the lever that would fire up the machine and begin the spectral invasion._

GBGBGBGBGBGBGB

Holtzmann rushed to tear the Cintamani medallion out of Janine's hands. "What are you doing?! I'm supposed to be the crazy one!"

Egon stared at his wife in shock. "Janine? How long have you had that?!"

Janine smiled sadly at them. "Jagannath brought it to me this morning while everyone was sleeping. I was going to give it to you after…I just didn't want you to go so soon, Jillian. How'd you know?"

Holtzmann frowned. "You put something in my timeline that wasn't there before," she accused. "Did you think I wouldn't know?"

Egon was still reeling. "What? Janine, how could you do that after-you didn't wish for their Egon to come back? We talked about apocalyptic consequences! Jillian, whatever it is she changed, we'll fix it…"

"You can't 'fix' this," Holtzmann shook her head.

Janine was unapologetic, even in the face of her daughter and her husband's fury. "I meant what I said. I was going to give it back to you, Jillian. I was going to send you home. I have to. The S.D.A. tried to kill you again. They'll never leave you alone. I wanted a couple of days with you, just like you wanted a couple of days with your father. I wanted you to have a happy life when you did go home, to have the things our Jillian will never have: A real family, a good life, a safe life, happiness, even if we can't be there to share it with you."

Holtzmann tried hard to hang on to the bubbling anger. "I have a good life there, Mom. But this-"

"I'll put it back the way it was-"Janine held out her hand for the medallion.

"No!" Holtzmann's eyes flashed renewed anger at the suggestion. "I said you can't fix this. Leave it alone."

"Are you sure?" Egon felt badly out of the loop for whatever secret these two were sharing. He wouldn't force his daughter to share if she didn't wish to…but the idea of sending her back to a timeline that Janine had altered disturbed him.

"I'm sure."

He reluctantly accepted that. "We need to send you home and destroy that stone before it causes any more harm."

Holtzmann agreed.

She just needed to be sure her parents would be safe when she was gone.

GBGBGBGBGBGBGB

"Director Gilbert? I have Jillian Holtzmann on the line for you."

The receptionist couldn't have surprised Erin more if she'd walked into her office and announced that Martians had just landed on the roof. "Is that a joke?" she asked.

The receptionist didn't dignify that with an answer.

Erin reached for her phone. "All right, put it through-and make sure that the call is traced."

"Already working on it, ma'am."

The phone beeped. Erin waited for three rings, making sure there was time for the trace to begin before she picked up. "Director Gilbert."

"Mele Kalikimaka, Erin," Jillian greeted her cheerfully.

"Doctor Holtzmann. You realize that you're on my naughty list now?"

Holtzmann sounded proud of herself when she apologized: "Yeah, sorry I Beckham-ed you boyfriend's ornaments, Erin. Hope I didn't ruin your Christmas plans. Unless you're mad I had my hand in his pants? You understand that was strictly to render first aid? He's really not my type."

Erin writhed in her chair, mortified knowing the conversation was being recorded. Holtzmann would obviously know this as well, so she was clearly screwing with Erin. "Did you call for something specific, Dr. Holtzmann?"

"So much for catching up." Holtzmann got to the point: "I thought you'd be interested in making a deal. I have the Cintamani stone; You have a DX-4 order on my family, and I'd like you to make it go away. Got any ideas how we can help each other out?"

Erin was pleased that the woman was being reasonable for a change. "I would be agreeable to a trade-with one stipulation."

Holtzmann could guess: "I still go to jail? Is that it? You know that technically I didn't blow up the barrier generator or betray the S.D.A. or whatever the hell you think Jillian Spengler did?"

"You know that technically it's Jillian Spengler's family, not yours?" Erin countered.

"Good point."

"Besides, it doesn't have to be jail, Dr. Holtzmann. I'd hate to see your talents go to waste. I need competent scientists at the S.D.A…provided you're under strict supervision by our agents."

There was silence at the other end of the line for a few seconds before Holtzmann answered. "I'll think about it."

Erin warned her: "My offer goes away if I don't have you and the Cintamani stone in two hours."

Another stretch of silence. Then:

"I'll be at the firehouse."

GBGBGBGBGBGBGB

Holtzmann ended the call and tossed the burner phone aside.

She was alone in the tiny room for a few minutes. Ray, Winston, and her father were downstairs taking care of their part of the plan. The medallion sat on the table beside the bed, where it would hopefully do no harm before Holtzmann got around to destroying it.

 _First things first…_

She couldn't trust Director Gilbert. There wasn't a question about that. The question was what to do about the whole messed up situation. Holtzmann figured that she basically had only three options.

Option one was to stay here. Egon would not consider allowing Holtzmann to use the Cintamani to restore him to her timeline, he was so utterly convinced that his resurrection would result somehow in his daughter's death. She'd given her word. She could stay, make sure they were safe, get to have the time with her birth parents that Jillian Spengler had enjoyed and Jillian Holtzmann had missed.

But, staying here meant leaving behind everyone she loved back in her timeline.

Option two was to use the medallion to go home, home to her universe, her family…her extended family. Thanks to Janine's altering of Jillian's timeline (which still infuriated her daughter, no matter how good her mother's intentions might have been), Holtzmann was all the more determined to get back to her world. Her hesitation was out of concern for the parents and extended family she was leaving behind in this universe…leaving to the mercies of the S.D.A. Holtzmann could not leave until she knew they were safe.

Which brought her around to option three. She picked up the Cintamani stone, fingering the words etched into the metal.

She imagined the ancient warlords holding this medallion in their hands. She understood it now. She understood the allure of holding power over history itself, the intoxication of being able to bend history to one's will. She understood because she was sorely tempted to do so now.

Holtzmann spoke to the stone as if it might actually understand her: "Okay…show me."

The dizzy spell hit her like a wave, but what came next was like sensory overload.

Infinite timelines spread out before her, one atop another, playing themselves out in milliseconds. She saw the unlimited consequences if she remained in this dimension. In most, she spent her life constantly on the run from the Spectral Defense Agency. In many, she was brought into the Agency by force or coercion or blackmail. In many others, the S.D.A. ultimately eliminated her and usually the Ghostbusters with her. In a few, she and the Ghostbusters allied with the S.D.A. to prevent future Apocalyptic invasions. Alternately, they shut down the S.D.A.-sometimes the Ghostbusters defeated the Apocalypses on their own, sometimes they did not.

In almost none of them did her parents survive more than a few years. They died protecting her, rescuing her, fighting alongside her, hiding with her…

Holtzmann didn't want to see any more, but the barrage continued.

The timelines in which she surrendered the Cintamani stone were worse. In every scenario, someone-S.D.A. agent, rogue demigod, maniac terrorists, race supremacists, 'benevolent' dictators, mentally unstable janitors, and even Holtzmann herself-got his or her hands on the ghost rock and…well, bent history to their will, never with less than devastating results.

The removal of the S.D.A. from the timeline only reduced the odds of the Ghostbusters preventing the Apocalypses spawned by some truly powerful entities yet to hit the planet.

Holtzmann got the point.

The Cinatami stone turned its attention to the timeline that Holtzmann called her own. Again, the unlimited potential outcomes played out before her in the blink of an eye. Scenarios of the Ghostbusters working with Homeland Security, without Homeland Security, branching into different countries, battling various demigods with apocalyptic intentions. Sometimes the Ghostbusters succeeded in saving the world. Other times they did not. Without the continued presence of all four-Erin, Abby, Patty, and Jillian-the chances of survival decreased dramatically. In many, the world didn't even survive this Christmas.

The presence of the Cintamani stone, as in the other timeline, only guaranteed genocide, war, and the end of humanity by one hand or the other.

Finally, it showed her the timelines spawned by the alterations Janine had already made when she'd created-

Holtzmann dropped the medallion. She didn't want to see any more. That change was irreversible; there was no point in exploring the 'what ifs'. Thanks to that change, there was no decision to be made about returning to her own timeline and her family.

Egon had been right-it seemed that in any timeline, her death or his was a fixed, unalterable point. It happened sooner or it happened later, but there were precious few timelines in which Egon and Jillian both survived, where they and Janine were a family with long and happy lives.

She hung her head, squeezing her eyes closed as if that would shut out what the ghost rock had shown her in only a few seconds. It had told her what she needed to know-how to prevent the S.D.A. from following through on their threat against Jillian's parents and her extended family here.

The knock on the bedroom door startled her. "Come in."

Ray, Egon, and Winston entered the room. Egon sat beside her, taking one more stab at changing her mind. "This is a needless risk. Use the stone now. Take it and go home. We can handle Director Gilbert."

Holtzmann called upon her reserves of false bravado. "Eh, I've escaped Homeland Security twice now. I can do it again. I have a plan." She had to keep her word…and make sure that Erin was going to keep hers. "I don't want you guys there. If the S.D.A. gets their hands on you-well, that's game over." Evil Blonde Erin could use her family as leverage to make Jillian do and build whatever she wanted.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Winston said.

There was another knock on the door, and Janine poked her head in the room, wordlessly asking permission to come inside. Jillian gave her a hesitant smile.

Ray and Winston traded looks. "What do you say we give them a minute?" Ray suggested to Winston.

"Yep." Winston reached down and hugged Jillian. "Kid, it's never boring when you're around. You take care of yourself."

"Take care of these guys, Uncle Winston."

"Count on it."

Ray was next. He nearly lifted Jillian off the mattress when he swept her up in a bear hug. "Sorry we never finished the upgrades on the proton pack."

"I left the specs on your computer," she told him.

Ray grinned. "See you on the other side. We love you, kiddo."

She tried saying it back, but what came out was her usual strangled noises. They got the point anyway.

Janine slipped into the vacant spot beside Egon on the opposite bed. Holtzmann and Egon hadn't discussed what had happened with Janine and her alteration of Jillian's timeline. The others had been suspicious after Holtzmann had torn through the house searching for her mother-not to mention the subsequent arguing behind the closed bedroom door followed by the Cintamani magically being "found" by Jagannath and Slimer-but if they were suspicious, the other Ghostbusters hadn't asked questions.

Janine cleared her throat. "We can change the timeline back-"

"I said no," Holtzmann answered.

"I don't-I didn't get to say good-bye to Jillian. I don't want you to-" Janine fumbled for what to say. "I'm so grateful that you came-I'm so sorry."

Holtzmann moved to hug her. "Mom, it's okay."

"Just, please forgive me-"

"Mom," she repeated, "it's okay." It wasn't, Holtzmann knew, but it would be. It would be an adjustment, and once she got home the other Ghostbusters would be in for a shock when they found out, but it would be okay. The last thing she wanted was to leave this Janine a lifetime of thinking her daughter wouldn't forgive her.

Janine kissed her cheek before she pulled away. "Be safe, sweetie."

"I still wish you would tell me what happened," Egon commented.

"We'll talk later," Janine promised.

Egon resigned himself that he was not going to talk his daughter out of her plan. "Just be sure you get yourself back to your timeline before you destroy that thing." He nodded to the Cintamani. "Don't try to come back here, either."

"Aw-right…" She was flippant because if she didn't joke, she would end up crying.

He closed the distance, sweeping her into another hug, wishing it was safe for Jillian to stay a little bit longer. He wasn't one for long goodbyes or saccharin speeches, so he kept it simple.

"I love you, baby."

 _Shit, she was crying anyway._ Holtzmann managed to answer in a rapid spill of words:"Love you, too, Dad."

GBGBGBGBGBGBGB

 _Rowan reached for the handle…and Erin chose that minute to make her appearance. She had followed the noises down to the sub-basement and the open door to Rowan's hideaway. Distracted by their argument, neither he nor Abby had noticed Erin's arrival. She'd managed to circle around, hiding behind the gargantuan machine. The ghosts had tried to point out the intruder to their master, but Rowan's focus was fully on Abby._

 _When Rowan pulled the lever, Erin emerged, swinging the only weapon she could find: One of Phil's precious graphite golf clubs that he'd left in the trunk of her car. She clubbed Abby's psychotic assistant with all her strength, and he hit the floor hard._

 _Abby was so grateful to see her that she could have cried. "Erin! Never thought I'd be happy to see you again!"_

 _Erin nodded in greeting, wielding the club in case Rowan woke up. "Nice company you're keeping. You ever hear of background checks?"_

" _Well, there's no box on the application form for 'apocalypse-spawning whack-a-doodle'." Abby ran to the machine and reset the lever that Rowan had pulled. That did nothing. The machine was still building up power for a catastrophic explosion. The ground shook with the force of its power. "We gotta shut this thing down before it blows."_

" _Great." Erin blinked at the machine. "How?"_

 _Abby couldn't make heads or tails of Rowan's behemoth either. She needed a real engineer's help. "How should I know?"_

" _He's your lab assistant!" Erin reasoned._

" _And this was an after-work hobby! I didn't help him with this!"_

 _Erin studied the layout of the machine while still trying to keep one eye on the unmoving Rowan. "We need to figure this out fast…"_

 _Abby circled the machine. She had taken a few engineering courses. She ought to be able to figure this out. If she wanted to avoid Christmas in the Cataclysm, she had no choice but to figure this out. "Alright, alright…it wouldn't be hidden or super complicated. He wasn't expecting interference. Here, this looks like something-"_

 _Erin turned her head just for a second to watch what Abby was doing…and Rowan's eyes snapped open._

 _Like a shot, he launched himself from the ground and tackled Erin, pitching her into Abby. Both women hit the floor hard._


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: I still don't own "Ghostbusters", otherwise the ladies would already be signed for the sequel. See chapter 1 for full disclaimers._

 **6**

 **A Simple Wish**

Director Gilbert hadn't been to the accident site until this moment.

When she and Abby and Jillian had hired in, Erin's specialty had been theoretical paranormal physics-the why and how of spectral existence and how they traveled between dimensional planes. Her job was to solve such questions and pass the information along to engineers like Jillian Spengler, who would put the knowledge to practical use redesigning traps and weapons to combat the continual invasions.

When the firehouse laboratory went up, Erin had been miles away in the safety of her laboratory in the West Virginia field office near Norfolk. She'd watched the live broadcast of the explosion on the satellite feed of the New York City local news.

Then she'd gone into the nearest ladies' room, locked herself inside, and spent the next few hours alternating between throwing up until there was nothing left in her stomach to bring up except acid and crying uncontrollably before anyone realized she was missing…and that was only because an equally devastated Abby had been calling looking for her.

When she was done grieving, Erin became angry.

After she became angry, she began planning: Director Peck had been the one to push for the reckless weapon's construction. Erin would take his job. She'd see that he never found work engineering so much as a pile of Tinker Toys. She'd boot Arthur Klein all the way back to England and make sure he never landed a contract with the Spectral Defense Agency ever again. She'd be the Director that the S.D.A. needed-the one who embraced the paranormal as something beautiful, who could protect Earth from spectral threats without resorting to the insane, dangerous lengths of her predecessor.

Director Gilbert was so far removed from the person she'd been those years ago that she could almost pity how naïve that Erin Gilbert had been. Years of making the shitty decisions necessary to protect earth had beaten the naïve out of her.

Standing in the wreckage of the firehouse, with the evidence of the catastrophe all around her, Erin recalled the depths of grief and anger of that life-altering day anew. She knelt, brushing aside dust and mortar to fish out one of Spengler's radioactive heart labels on a piece of metal. The juxtaposition of the sweet and whimsical with the macabre always amused the engineer.

Until yesterday, she'd almost forgotten how much she missed her friend.

She was grateful that she'd left her agents outside to guard the entrances and exits. It wouldn't do to have them see her hugging a melted scrap of metal.

The voice from the past shattered the moment. "For the record, if I had to go, this is exactly how I'd want to do it."

Jillian Holtzmann was seated on the broken staircase, watching her. Erin was not remotely surprised that she'd slipped past the agents at the door.

Erin dropped the piece of metal and stood, wiping the dust from her knees to avoid eye contact until she was sure that the tears weren't going to fall. "You both have a morbid sense of humor."

"True." She winced at Erin's smashed and bruised nose. "Whoah, that's a shiner. You're my friend, so if you want to take a punch to even things out, I'll give you one for free."

"I'd prefer that you give me the Cintamani stone." Erin didn't approach the engineer, knowing full well she could have set up some kind of trap or ambush amidst the remains of the firehouse.

Holtzmann made a face. "You're a lot more fun when you're a red-head."

"Well, I apologize, but we are still in a radioactive hot zone. If we're going to exchange banalities, I'd rather do it elsewhere, Dr. Holtzmann." She knew full well that the woman had insisted on meeting here expecting that it was going to bring up painful memories and sentimentality in Erin. If she thought that Erin was going to sacrifice the safety of the planet by letting her and the Cintamani stone walk out of here for old time's sake, she was mistaken.

Holtzmann didn't budge from the staircase. Instead, she pulled the medallion from her jacket pocket and turned it over and over in her hands like it was a fascinating toy and not the dangerous weapon Erin knew it to be.

"Dr. Holtzmann, you need to be careful with that-"

 _That was the Understatement of the Year._ "No kidding. I'm wondering—once you have this goodie in your hot little hands, how can I be sure you aren't going after my family…sorry, I mean _Spengler's_ family? See, I'd trust my Erin with my life…but you ain't her."

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you and Jillian Spengler." Erin produced a data pad and held it up for Holtzmann to see. "The official order revoking the DX-4 order on you and the Ghostbusters. It's ready to be sent when I have the artifact. You have my word."

"Your word and five dollars will buy me a cup of Starbuck's coffee-you have Starbuck's in this timeline, right?"

"Dr. Holtzmann, our deal expires in less than ten minutes, so I'm afraid I'm done with pleasantries-"

Now, Holtzmann stood up and began making her way down the staircase, still clasping the Cintamani in one hand. "I didn't have to negotiate with you. You get that, don't you? I could have used this to make you do whatever I want. Hell, I could have wished the whole S.D.A. out of existence if I'd wanted."

"I think you understand what a bad idea that would be-"

"Actually, I do." Holtzmann grinned at Erin's disbelief. "I know. I'm as surprised as you."

Reluctantly, Jillian handed over the Cintamani. "You need to destroy this thing, Erin."

Erin studied the medallion. It was an innocuous looking thing for such a dangerous device. "That's not really your decision now. You could have used this to return yourself to your timeline. You've trapped yourself here. Unless the story about this being a Cintamani stone was bullshit?"

Holtzmann shook her head. "All true. I just had to find out something before I could go home."

"I hope it was something important. You understand the terms of our deal have to remain a secret? As far as the public is concerned, you were an unstable woman impersonating Jillian Spengler who has been taken to a mental health facility at an undisclosed location."

"I know a nice one in upstate New York," Holtzmann cracked.

Erin ignored her. "Agent Rorke? Place Dr. Holtzmann under arrest and find the Ghostbusters. We'll issue a public statement-"

Holtzmann interrupted. "Erin?"

Erin glared at her. "What?"

"You didn't send that order," Holtzmann nodded to the tablet in Erin's hand. "The one revoking the DX-4 order on my family."

"Hmm. So, I didn't." Erin thumbed the 'delete' key. "You understand that I can't have the continual undermining of our programs-"

To her surprise, Holtzmann gave her a smile that was more disappointment than bitterness. Somehow, the disappointment-aimed squarely at Erin-was a worse feeling than having to break her promise to keep the Ghostbusters out of jail.

Before Erin could say another word, the Cintamani stone vanished from her hand. She barked at Holtzmann: "What did you do?!"

"Yeah, I kind of figured you wouldn't keep your word. I wished for it to send itself into the sun as soon as you touched it. Like I said-it had to be destroyed."

Erin fumed, but wasn't surprised. "Clever. You just voided our deal. You and the Ghostbusters are going to spend a long time being a family in Federal Prison-"

Then Erin and Holtzmann were both hit with a wave of dizziness. Erin grabbed for the broken worktable to keep from falling. Having expected it, used to it by now, Holtzmann closed her eyes and rode it out.

She opened her eyes when a familiar voice boomed: " _I_ will be deciding who goes to Federal Prison, if you don't mind _Deputy_ Director Gilbert."

Holtzmamm opened her eyes to see Peter Venkman standing in the doorway.

GBGBGBGBGBGBGB

" _So, there we are-me, your Uncle Winston, your Uncle Ray, and your Uncle Egon, staring at a Marshmallow Man as tall as a twenty-story building. And he's eyeballing me. We know he's going to climb up the side of that building and that's the end of us-"_

 _The Zeddemore house was bustling with relatives, neighbors, and the extended family Winston had accumulated through years of volunteering with the neighborhood youth center. Everyone had settled into some kind of holiday task-some were in the kitchen helping with cooking or dishing out food that the guests had brought. Others were setting the table. Jo Rita Tolan was decorating the Christmas tree with the help of some of the other teenagers from the youth center._

 _Peter Venkman sat before a knot of children and regaled them with tales of his glory days in the Ghostbusters. They listened with rapt attention…all except Peter and Dana's autistic son, Jack, who sat at the coffee table sorting a giant bag of Legos by color._

" _What did you do?" Winston's grandson, Hunter, wanted to know._

 _Peter smiled. "What else could we do? We got some chocolate and a really big stick and made a smore out of him." He bit into a smore just to emphasize his point. The kids laughed like it was the funniest thing they'd ever seen._

 _Ray rolled his eyes as he worked setting out dishes on the massive dining table and four other card tables. "Careful kids, every story your Uncle Peter tells ends with him saving the day all by himself."_

" _Hey, I'm just giving the people what they want," Peter protested._

 _The doorbell rang, and Patty Tolan was practically blown into the house by the howling wind and snow outside. She waved greetings to Jo Rita, Peter, Ray, and the kids in the living room. "Hey! Sorry I'm late. Damn snow plows aren't doing much of anything. Nobody wants to work on Christmas Eve."_

" _Patty! You made it!" Winston emerged from the kitchen, where he'd been putting the finishing touches on the three turkeys he was baking until her heard her voice._

" _Uncle Winston!" She gave her honorary uncle a bear hug and then handed him the two bottle of sparkling cider she'd brought for the party. "Merry Christmas! Hey Peter, hey Ray!" She was happy they all could get a night off from Ghostbusting to join the dinner._

 _Peter was being mobbed by children trying to get the smores he'd taunting them with. "Patty, help!"_

" _No, I ain't getting in the middle of that. You just got to toss the candy like a grenade and run, otherwise they're like a wolf pack, they'll eat your ass alive."_

 _Hunter giggled. "Aunt Patty said 'ass'."_

 _Patty shook a finger at him, warning him not to start using that word. "I meant 'butt'."_

 _She headed into the kitchen to help with the cooking. "Hey, Aunt Kim! Smells good in here. Do you need a hand?"_

 _Kim shook her head. "Patty, I've got this. You've been working all day. Sit down and have a cookie." She pointed to the counter and the plates that sat there, heaped with Chrismtas cookies._

 _Patty accepted the invitation to sit, plopping herself on a barstool with a groan of relief. "Thank you. No, I'm fine, really. Hey, Dana, you're husband's in trouble out there."_

" _Good, good…" Dana Venkman smiled in greeting. Her attention was drawn to the medallion that Patty wore. "Patty, that's an interesting necklace. Is that Sanskrit?"_

 _Patty frowned at the medallion. It looked like chicken scratch to her. "Damned if I know. Yeah, some freak boy admirer dropped it in my booth today. I mean, if he wants to show the appreciation I deserve, who am I to refuse?"_

 _Dana nodded approval. "I'll take a glass of that wine."_

 _Patty apologized, "Sorry, it's sparkling cider. My Christmas bonus was about five dollars."_

 _She looked around at the guests. The house sure looked full, but Patty had a weird feeling they were missing someone. "Did Jo Rita get here okay?"_

" _I think the kids tied her up and locked her in the linen closet twenty minutes ago," Kim answered._

 _Patty still couldn't shake that feeling. She'd been having that weird feeling all day that something's…off. "Who are we missing?"_

 _Dana looked around, her brow furrowing. "I think everyone's here-"_

 _The doorbell rang again. Patty heard the door open. Seconds later, the kids who had been hanging on Peter's words scrambled to meet the new arrival, squealing: "Aunt Janine! Aunt Janine's here!"_

 _The children would have loved her even if she didn't spoil them rotten, Patty knew, but sure enough, Janine was loaded down with gift boxes. She was quickly surrounded by the kids, who fired questions at her: "What'd you bring? Is that one for me? Is this one for me?"_

" _You're spoiling them." Kim went to kiss Janine's cheek in welcome._

 _Janine defended herself. "It's my right as the Aunt to bribe my way into their hearts. Hey—no! We don't open presents until after dinner!"_

 _The kids grumbled as she puts the gifts under the tree, which was already overloaded. "All right, who wants to help me bring my dishes from the car?" Janine asked._

 _No one volunteered. The children still stared longingly at the goodies under the tree._

" _I'll give you a hand," Ray offered._

" _Thanks, Ray," Janine said. To the kids, she hinted: "I might have a box from the Sugar Plum Factory out there."_

 _The kids shrieked and rushed outside to help._

 _Kim's eyes widened. "Oh good, that's what was missing from our holiday: Kids on a sugar rush."_

 _Patty grinned, but she still couldn't relax. She still had that weird feeling.  
_

GBGBGBGBGBGBGB

" _Dr. Gilbert, I'm pleased that you stopped by to see my work. Abigail, I regret that I must tender my resignation," he smirked. The machine was more magnificent than he'd anticipated. An ectoplasmic cloud was already beginning to swirl. In mere seconds, the barrier would collapse and the specters that banged against the mirrors would be unleashed._

 _Moving as one, Erin and Abby snagged Rowan's legs and pulled him to the floor. Erin elbowed him in the nose._

 _From that vantage point, Abby finally spotted the main power connection, a thick cable that came up from beneath the ground where it would be hidden beneath the bulk of the machine. She pointed it out to Erin. The gap between the floor and the bottom of the machine was too narrow. Abby couldn't fit, but Erin might make it. After that, all she'd have to do is pray that disconnecting the machine without proper grounding didn't electrocute her. Erin didn't like her odds, but if she did nothing, she and the rest of the world would be dead for certain._

 _Erin crawled for it while Abby wrestled with Rowan. He grabbed one of Erin's ankles with both hands, holding her back from the cable._

 _Abby laid across his back, pinning him while she reached to try to pry his hands away from Erin's leg. "Someone…needs a stay…at the happy hospital…"_

 _Erin strained for the cable "Almost got it…" She just needed a few more inches, but Rowan weighed her down like an anchor. Irritated, she glanced over her shoulder and kicked him in the face with her high heel. He screamed, hands flying to his left eye, where her heel had connected. "Asshole…" she grunted._

 _Her hand was a half-inch from the cable when the ground lurched violently. A roar deafened her and light whited out her sight._

 _Erin's last awareness before being caught in the blast was that they were too late…_

GBGBGBGBGBGBGB

Director Gilbert tried to reorient herself from the wave that had just overloaded her senses. She saw memories play themselves out-and then rewrite themselves-in the space of one heartbeat. _The Cintamani stone? What else could it be?_

She looked at Holtzmann. "What did you do?"

Holtzmann affected her best sheepish pose. "Okay, I lied. I did change one _little_ thing. Tell Rebecca I'm sorry about the Director's job. She was always happier being at the university anyway."

She had seen every potential timeline this universe had offered. The only constant was that Peter Venkman winning his bid to be the Director of the Spectral Defense Agency was the only way to prevent the DX-4 order against the Ghostbusters from being issued in the first place.

Director Venkman surveyed the firehouse sadly as he approached the women. "I will be deciding who's going to prison and who's going to the unemployment line. I believe you answer to me, isn't that right, _Deputy_ Director Gilbert?"

Erin was still reeling in that lovely position of remembering both timelines as the universe rewrote itself. Holtzmann had made sure to wish that she remembered…if only because she was hoping the change to history would somehow give Erin the opportunity to be the Deputy Director she'd set out to be. Erin straightened up, nodding in greeting to the man in the black overcoat and suit. "Director Venkman?! I mean, yes, sir, that's correct."

Peter gave her an icy smirk. "I know I've been out of town all week, so I'm a little behind on current events, but did I just hear you threaten to send the Ghostbusters….and my goddaughter…to jail? And, as I'm a Ghostbuster, too, am I going to jail with them?"

"The Ghostbusters aided in the escape of a Federal prisoner…" Erin was still floundering. If it was her Erin, Holtzmann would have pitied her. As it was the Evil Blonde Erin and not her dear friend Erin, Holtzmann simply enjoyed the show.

"You have proof of that? According to the video, it looks like Dr. Holtzmann escaped on her own. The Ghostbusters were never in the building." Peter had already done his homework. He was simply closing the trap (no pun intended).

"She was recorded by the drones at the Ghostbusters' warehouse in New Jersey. They were harboring a fugitive-"

Peter looked absolutely fascinated with the situation. He leaned against the work table and pressed on: "Which brings me to my next question: Why was Dr. Holtzmann under arrest in the first place? What was her crime, exactly? Being assaulted by a mob? Was it because she bears a faint resemblance to a former S.D.A. employee? I'm confused."

"It was a matter of national security. She was in possession of a dangerous artifact. It's our obligation-"

Peter shrugged. "Where is it?"

"Pardon?"

"The 'dangerous artifact'? Where is it?"

The fight went out of Erin when she realized how thoroughly Holtzmann had screwed her over. "Gone."

Peter nodded. "Uh-huh. I also decide who is-or is not-a threat to national security. I've reviewed the information and determined that Dr. Holtzmann is not a security threat to national security."

Holtzmann was insulted. "I can try harder."

"You shush," Peter told his goddaughter before returning his attention to Erin. "If I were you, Director Gilbert, I'd see that the _illegal_ DX-4 order for her and for the Ghostbusters is rescinded and hope that the legal sharks don't catch wind of her illegal detainment."

Erin had nothing to say.

Peter gave her another smirk. "Bye."

Director Gilbert took the hint. With one last stink eye at Holtzmann, she retreated from the firehouse.

Holtzmann gazed proudly at Peter. "I will never get tired of watching you playing mind games with the Homeland Security bureaucrats."

He returned the amused grin. "Jillian," he hugged her fiercely.

"Uncle Peter." She returned the hug.

GBGBGBGBGBGBGB

 _Dinner was boisterous, as usual. It was the biggest Christmas party on the block, with more food than the whole neighborhood can eat. They'd fished Jo Rita out of the closet. She sulked the whole time._

 _Janine and Ray sat at the kids' table despite Kim and Winston's objections. Jack Venkman sat between Janine and Ray. The trio played with the gingerbread house, rearranging the gum drops by color and size until Jack was pleased with the results._

 _Patty watched them with a smile. "That girl is oblivious, isn't she?" Patty thought it was obvious to everyone except Janine that Ray adored her but wouldn't do anything about it because she was Egon's widow. Patty resolved to do something to help the guy out in the new year._

 _Dana hid her own smile. She was more curious why Patty had been fidgety all evening. "Are you okay, Patty?"_

" _Yeah, I'm fine. How's Jack doing?"_

" _Great. His new teacher is working wonders. He's just fascinated with electronics. He found Peter's old proton pack yesterday and tried to dismantle it…he started taking pieces of the clock and the kitchen dishes to add-"_

 _Dana turned back to Patty to see that she had tears on her cheek. "Patty! Are you sure you're okay, honey?" Hearing alarm in Dana's tone, Kim, Winston, and Bill looked up._

 _Patty hadn't realized she was crying. She wiped at her face impatiently. "It's nothing. I don't know…I think I'm still shaking off the Christmas Scrooges." She'd stopped for Christmas Eve services at the church on 78th Street and Central Park West…the most popular church in town since it was rebuilt after Gozer's invasion. Normally, that put her in the Christmas spirit, but for some reason Patty couldn't shake the blues this year. She changed the subject. "I can't believe all these years and I didn't know you all are ghost hunters."_

 _Janine overheard that last bit. Her smile faltered for a second, but she recovers and goes back to playing with Jack._

 _Kim had noticed. "Maybe it's not a good time to talk about that. We're celebrating today. How about presents?"_

 _The kids shriek and run for the tree. Janine escorts Jack over there. She was one of few people allowed to hold his hand. He sat with her, meticulously pulling each piece of tape off his gift and trying to remove the paper without tearing it._

" _She's good with him," Patty commented, fingering the chunky medallion absently while she watched the chaos._

 _Dana agreed. She didn't mind letting Janine babysit for the evening; Janine adored her godson and was one of few people to whom Dana and Peter would trust Jack without worry. "She's got a way. Why?"_

 _Patty sighed. "Nothing. I just wish she and Uncle Egon had a chance to have a baby of their own before…"_

 _She stopped before saying "before he died" aloud._

 _As soon as she'd spoken the words, Patty suddenly felt dizzy._

GBGBGBGBGBGBGB

Peter stared at the younger woman in amazement. "My God, Ray was not kidding. You do look like her." He had to hug Holtzmann again, reveling in the ability just to be able to hold his goddaughter again, even if this wasn't exactly the same Jillian. Peter had seen every sort of weird shit the paranormal could dish out. Usually, it sucked, but once in a while it gave them a genuine miracle. He was willing to roll with this one.

Stantz had made an S.O.S. call to Peter, filling him in on the situation. Peter had been at a conference on Global Paranormal Security in Dubai when he received the news. He'd flown back to New York City as quickly as possible. Nothing would have kept him away.

"I wish I could have seen their faces when you climbed into Ecto-1." He offered her an arm, leading the way out of the firehouse. "You give Director Gilbert that shiner?"

Holtzmann shrugged.

Peter approved. "Atta girl. I could use a beer. What do you say we get out of the fallout zone in case one of us still wants to have children in the future-?

"Sounds-"

Holtzmann felt the telltale dizziness. She pulled her hand away from Peter. She didn't understand what was happening. The Cintamani stone was gone. She'd wished it into the heart of the sun, just like she'd promised her father. How could something be changing again? What was changing-?

The world whited out…

….and she was standing in the familiar firehouse with her messy but intact laboratory and the cubbies with the Ghostbusters' gear, in a room adorned with Kevin's palms and bellflowers.

GBGBGBGBGBGB

Patty squeezed her eyes closed against the dizziness.

When she opened them, she was back at the dining table.

 _Wasn't she just in the living room, watching the kids open gifts_? She wondered. _But that couldn't be, everyone was still at the table…_

…and a glob of mashed potato hit her in the face. It was flung at Jo Rita, who is trying to manage the kids' table.

Patty wiped the potato from her face. "Really, Hunter?" She scooped up a spoonful of her own potato and flung it back at the boy…and the food fight began in earnest.

Dana covered her head as the food storm flew around the room. "What were you saying, Patty?"

Patty held up her plate as a shield when Jack, with a laugh, picked up a handful of peas and flung them at her. He then got up and moved to retrieve them.

"I was saying Holtzmann and Janine are late. I'm going to go call and make sure nothing's on fire or disintegrated at the firehouse." Patty had the sudden, urgent need to check on them.

She was relieved when Holtzmann picked up the phone. _Why had she been so worried_?

"Yeah, what?" the engineer said instead of 'hello'. Patty thought Holtzmann sounded weird…well, weirder than normal. "Holtz? You two okay?"

"I'm-I'm at the firehouse."

 _Yeah, she sounds extremely weird_. "I know that. Holtz, I told you, you got to open a window when you glue. You don't need those fumes making you loopier…"

Holtzmann cut her off. "Patty…it's good to talk to you, but I gotta check on something…" Patty heard her calling for Janine before the line went dead.

When Patty put her phone away, Winston asked, "How's Jillian?"

"Crazy as ever. I mean, she's brilliant, but she's got the attention span of a gerbil…"

GBGBGBGBGBGB

Erin blinked as the blinding light faded and the dizziness that assailed her finally abated.

 _Where the hell was she?_

For a moment, her memory was a complete blank. Then a car horn blared, indicating that she had been crossing the street and probably ought to get out of the way. Erin ran for the sidewalk, ignoring the driver, who gave her the finger before going on his way.

 _Market. She was going to the market. She forgot to get some items for her Christmas Eve dinner,_ she reoriented herself. Jagannath and his ghost buddies had kept the Ghostbusters so busy that Erin hadn't picked up everything she needed yet.

 _What was up with the brain fart she'd just had? Probably a symptom of some early stage brain tumor from too much time around Holtz's radioactive contraptions._ She made a mental note to get a CAT scan as soon as the holidays were over.

Her hand was on the door to the small market when a familiar face on the street corner caught her eye. "Kevin?"

Their receptionist searched for the caller that had spoken his name (he actually looked skyward also, Erin noticed with a groan). She forgot about the market and walked over to him, tapping his shoulder. "Hi!"

He gave her a brilliant smile. "Oh, hey."

"What happened to Vermont?"

Kevin gave her a worried frown. "I don't know. I haven't watched the news-"

Erin stifled another groan. "I mean aren't you supposed to be in Vermont? The ski trip?"

He pushed his lens-less glasses up to the bridge of his nose. "Uh, well, you know, it turns out most of my mates brought their girlfriends along. I wasn't keen on being the third wheel, so I begged off. I thought I'd hit the ice rink by that giant Christmas Tree."

She didn't blame him, having been the third wheel in more group dates than she cared to remember. "You're doing the traditional New York City Christmas instead. Good idea."

He smiled. "Would you like to come? If you're not busy?" he invited.

She was so unprepared for the questions that several seconds elapsed before she realized he'd spoken. "Who? Me?"

Kevin shrugged. "I was going to stop for an ice cream cone. We always have one for Christmas back home. I suppose it's a strange craving when it's twenty degrees out-"

"Yes," she interrupted him before Kevin forgot his question. "Yes to the skating and the ice cream, not to the 'strange' craving, it's not strange at all-"

"Great!" Kevin smiled. "Did you need something from the market?"

"What?"

"You're standing in front of the market. Did you need something?" he repeated.

Erin shook her head. "No, who cares? Ice cream?"

Kevin offered her his arm. She accepted that as well before he changed his mind.

GBGBGBGBGBGBGB

Abby sat bolt upright, heart pounding, moving so quickly that her vision swam. She was terrified-and for the life of her she couldn't remember why.

She glanced around her. The private jet was quiet except for a sleeping stewardess and two Homeland Security big wigs who weren't happy to have a passenger along for the ride. Abby wondered how many blackmailed favors Holtzmann would get to call in over the whole 'Homeland Security shooting her during the Voga Ra'El incident' thing. Abby was starting to enjoy the perks of having leverage on Rorke and Hawkins (however, she officially still owed them an ass-kicking for trying to kill her friend).

She leaned back in the plush seat (her tax dollars at work), the inexplicable moment of terror subsiding. _Must have had a bad dream…whatever it was, it must have been a doozy._

Just to be safe, she pulled out a book to keep herself a wake until the plane landed.


	7. Ending 1

**EPILOGUE – VERSION 1**

 _A.N. – I wrote two different endings. This one is my original ending. I can't say any more without spoiling it, so I'll see you at the end (ends) of the story. Pick whichever ending you prefer. Disclaimer: I still don't own "Ghostbusters"_

When the light faded, and the now-familiar head rush had passed, Holtzmann was back at her work table in the firehouse.

She opened her eyes warily, afraid to see dust and destruction, which would mean the Cintamani had failed to return her to her own universe. But, no, she was surrounded by her shelves of tools, gadgets, and half-complete experiments. The containment unit hummed, the radio cranked out cheerful Christmas music, and the gear hung pristine in the Ghostbusters individual storage cubbies. Kevin's lighted palm tree and his various decorations still glowed brightly.

Home. She was home. Holtzmann glanced around in shock.

She hadn't wished herself home when she'd had the Cintamani, afraid to leave until she was certain her family was safe from the S.D.A. She'd wished the medallion into the heart of the sun, as her father requested. _How the hell was she back in her timeline_?

 _Christmas miracle_? Holtzmann tried to process it. She'd carried the Cintamani into the parallel universe, that much she knew. That was the stone that she'd destroyed.

Holtzmann looked down at her worktable.

The Cintamani stone medallion lay there as if nothing had happened.

 _What the hell_?

Was this not her timeline? Holtzmann stood up, running to the staircase, shouting: "Mom?! _Mom_!"

Her cell phone beeped. Patty's number popped onto the display. Distracted, Holtzmann answered: "Yeah, what?"

Patty's voice was concerned. "Holtz? You two okay?"

 _What, was she psychic?_ "I'm-I'm at the firehouse." Yeah, Holtzmann thought, that probably sounded extremely weird to Patty.

"I know that. Holtz, I told you, you got to open a window when you glue. You don't need those fumes making you loopier…" Patty lectured.

"Patty…it's good to talk to you, but I gotta check on something…" Patty would get a bear hug that was sure to baffle her next time Holtzmann saw her, but for now Jillian had to make sure the Cintamani hadn't changed anything.

Holtzmann barreled up the stairs and swept Janine up in a hug. She felt her mom's smile and petite arms wrapped around her, returning the embrace. "You okay, sweetie?" Janine asked.

"I'm just so damn happy you're here," Holtzmann croaked around the sudden lump in her throat.

"Oh." Janine was indeed smiling when she pulled away. "I'm happy you'll let me be here. But, you're acting weird again. What happened? Not another ghost-?"

"No…" Holtzmann was still trying to sort the barrage of images from two different timelines that filled her memory now. _As if her grasp on reality wasn't already tenuous on a good day_. "I think I got sucked into an alternate timeline by that ghost medallion, so I'm having a George Bailey moment."

Janine didn't so much as blink. "How sad is it that this kind of thing could happen in our lives and we aren't even surprised?"

They were interrupted by a knock on the firehouse door before it squealed open and Ray Stantz poked his head in the door, calling a greeting.

"You can tell me the whole story after I say hello to your Uncle Ray." Janine patted Holtz's arm before heading down the staircase.

Holtzmann watched them. Ray hugged Janine hello, then glanced around until he spied the younger woman standing on the staircase. "Jillian! Merry Christmas!" He crossed the room to embrace his goddaughter. "Good to see you, kid. Heard it's been a busy week. Little advice: You might want to check and make sure none of the big ghosts and demigods are planning something with that kind of surge in spectral activity—"

Janine swatted him lightly on the back of the head. "No talking shop on Christmas," she scolded them.

"I still want to hear the story," Ray sulked. "Jillian can tell me on the way to Winston's, right? Oh, and I want to hear about the test of the neutrino net-"

Janine threw up her hands. "I'll get my coat."

As she stomped up the stairs, Ray offered Holtzmann a wink. "Excuse me, kiddo. I'm going to go bribe my way out of the doghouse." He pulled a small, neatly wrapped box from his pocket and followed Janine up the stairs.

Grateful for the diversion, Holtzmann hurried back to her worktable and snatched up the Cintamani stone. She had to do this quickly. If Ray or Erin or Abby found out, they'd want to study the medallion. Uncle Peter would want to use it to win the lottery. Uncle Winston would want to return it to whatever government thought its nation was the rightful owner. God only knew what the Homeland Security bozos would do with it.

She could easily think up a dozen explanations for why the medallion was back: Her disappearance from the timeline meant that the Ghostbusters never found the stone and it ended up in someone else's hands, someone who had inadvertently corrected the timeline. That was a possibility. Maybe it hadn't been her medallion in the parallel universe, maybe their Jagannath—the nice Jagannath-had found the stone just the same as the naughty Jagannath had found it in this universe. Two medallions, so the one in this universe hadn't been lost at all…

 _Blah blah, woof woof, it didn't matter why the stone was here._ Holtzmann had promised her dad to get rid of it. She stared at the priceless artifact for one last moment. She wished only to remember everything that had happened, to remember her father most of all, because the memories had already started to fade.

Then she wished it into the burning heart of the blazing sun for fiery oblivion. The stone vanished from her hand.

Ray and Janine reappeared. His bribe obviously worked. Holtzmann noted both the new pearl earrings that Janine was now sporting and the smile she offered him as they laughed about whatever the hell Ray had just said. Holtzmann also noted Ray was holding Janine's hand.

She arched an eyebrow. She was going to have to have a talk with her godfather about his intentions towards her mother.

They waited for her at the door. "Jillian? You coming or what?" Ray called.

"Yep."

Holtzmann paused just long enough to touch two fingers to her lips and then pressed them to the photo of her father on the worktable.

FIN


	8. Altnerate Ending

**EPILOGUE – VERSION 2**

 **(a.k.a. the gag reel ending)**

 _AN: Okay, this isn't the ending that I originally had in mind for this saga. It was inspired by one of Kate McKinnon's ad-libs in the gag reel/deleted scenes. It's a more controversial ending. I'll explain at the end. Pick whichever ending you prefer, that's all I'm going to say. This ending will make more sense if you've read "Personal Demon", by the way. Disclaimer: I still don't own "Ghostbusters"._

When the light faded, and the now-familiar head rush had passed, Holtzmann was back at her work table in the firehouse.

She opened her eyes warily, afraid to see dust and destruction, which would mean the Cintamani had failed to return her to her own universe. But, no, she was surrounded by her shelves of tools, gadgets, and half-complete experiments. The containment unit hummed, the radio cranked out cheerful Christmas music, and the gear hung pristine in the Ghostbusters individual storage cubbies. Kevin's lighted palm tree and his various decorations still glowed brightly.

Home. She was home. Holtzmann glanced around in shock.

She hadn't wished herself home when she'd had the Cintamani, afraid to leave until she was certain her family was safe from the S.D.A. She'd wished the medallion into the heart of the sun, as her father requested. _How the hell was she back in her timeline_?

 _Christmas miracle_? Holtzmann tried to process it. She'd carried the Cintamani into the parallel universe, that much she knew. That was the stone that she'd destroyed.

Holtzmann looked down at her worktable.

The Cintamani stone medallion lay there as if nothing had happened.

 _What the hell_?

Was this not her timeline? Holtzmann stood up, running to the staircase, shouting: "Mom?! _Mom_!"

Her cell phone beeped. Patty's number popped onto the display. Distracted, Holtzmann answered: "Yeah, what?"

Patty's voice was concerned. "Holtz? You two okay?"

 _What, was she psychic?_ "I'm-I'm at the firehouse." Yeah, Holtzmann thought, that probably sounded extremely weird to Patty.

"I know that. Holtz, I told you, you got to open a window when you glue. You don't need those fumes making you loopier…" Patty lectured.

"Patty…it's good to talk to you, but I gotta check on something…" Patty would get a bear hug that was sure to baffle her next time Holtzmann saw her, but for now Jillian had to make sure the Cintamani hadn't changed anything.

Holtzmann barreled up the stairs and swept Janine up in a hug. She felt her mom's smile and petite arms wrapped around her, returning the embrace. "You okay, sweetie?" Janine asked.

"I'm just so damn happy you're here," Holtzmann croaked around the sudden lump in her throat.

"Oh." Janine was indeed smiling when she pulled away. "I'm happy you'll let me be here. But, you're acting weird again. What happened? Not another ghost-?"

"No…" Holtzmann was still trying to sort the barrage of images from two different timelines that filled her memory now. _As if her grasp on reality wasn't already tenuous on a good day_. "I think I got sucked into an alternate timeline by that ghost medallion, so I'm having a George Bailey moment."

Janine didn't so much as blink. "How sad is it that this kind of thing could happen in our lives and we aren't even surprised?"

" _You put something in my timeline that wasn't there before…did you think I wouldn't notice?_ " Holtzmann's own voice from the alternate universe echoed in her memory. _Something new…something new…what the hell was it?_ _It had been important, the change the other Janine had made, but what was it?_

Janine didn't so much as blink. "How sad is it that this kind of thing could happen in our lives and we aren't even surprised?"

They were interrupted by a knock on the firehouse door before it squealed open and Ray Stantz poked his head in the door, calling a greeting.

"You can tell me the whole story after I say hello to your Uncle Ray." Janine patted Holtz's arm before heading down the staircase.

Holtzmann watched them. Ray hugged Janine hello, then glanced around until he spied the younger woman standing on the staircase. "Jillian! Merry Christmas! Your cab is here, non-stop to the airport." He crossed the room to embrace his goddaughter. "Good to see you, kid. Heard it's been a busy week. Little advice: You might want to check and make sure none of the big ghosts and demigods are planning something with that kind of surge in spectral activity—"

Janine swatted him lightly on the back of the head. "No talking shop on Christmas," she scolded them.

"I still want to hear the story," Ray sulked. "Jillian can tell me on the way to Winston's, right? Oh, and I want to hear about the test of the neutrino net-"

Janine threw up her hands. "I'll get my coat. We're going to miss the plane if we don't leave now. She still won't tell me what this 'surprise' is," she complained to Ray.

As she stomped up the stairs, Ray offered Holtzmann a wink. "Excuse me, kiddo. I'm going to go bribe my way out of the doghouse." He pulled a small, neatly wrapped box from his pocket and followed Janine up the stairs. "I'll see you outside."

She could easily think up a dozen explanations for why the medallion was back: Her disappearance from the timeline meant that the Ghostbusters never found the stone and it ended up in someone else's hands, someone who had inadvertently corrected the timeline. That was a possibility. Maybe it hadn't been her medallion in the parallel universe, maybe their Jagannath—the nice Jagannath-had found the stone just the same as the naughty Jagannath had found it in this universe. Two medallions, so the one in this universe hadn't been lost at all…

 _Blah blah, woof woof, it didn't matter why the stone was here._ Holtzmann had promised her dad to get rid of it. She stared at the priceless artifact for one last moment. She wished only to remember everything that had happened, to remember her father most of all, because the memories had already started to fade.

Ray and Janine reappeared. His bribe obviously worked. Holtzmann noted both the new pearl earrings that Janine was now sporting and the smile she offered him as they laughed about whatever the hell Ray had just said. Holtzmann also noted Ray was holding Janine's hand.

She arched an eyebrow. She was going to have to have a talk with her godfather about his intentions towards her mother.

They waited for her at the door. "Jillian? You coming or what?" Ray called.

"Yep."

Holtzmann paused just long enough to touch two fingers to her lips and then pressed them to the photo of her father on the worktable. Then she reached for her leather jacket-

A new barrage of memories assailed her, bringing with them a surge of dread…Holtzmann squeezed her eyes shut against the onslaught, but they would not abate. She leaned heavily against the table, riding out the wave. She didn't hear Ray or Janine's cries of alarm or feel them catch hold of her arms before she could fall.

Her eyes snapped open.

There was something new in the timeline.

Something oh so critically new.

"Oh god…oh my god…oh my god…" she repeated, pulling from their grasp. "Got to go…we have to go…"

She fumbled for the keys to Ecto-1 while Ray and Janine exchanged concerned looks. "Jillian, what? What's wrong?"

Holtzmann staggered towards the firehouse's garage and slammed her fist against the remote control to open the massive doors. "We have to get to the airport. Shit!" Her hand shook so badly that she couldn't get the key into the car's lock.

Ray took the keys from her hand. "Yes, we know. I'll drive." He gave her a gentle shove towards the passenger seat.

Janine climbed into the back. "We have plenty of time, sweetie. Don't fret. You said the flight wasn't going to be there for an hour."

"If you say so." Holtzmann fretted all the same. _She changed this timeline…I can't believe she changed the timeline. I can't believe she did this…_

"We're on our way," Ray answered calmly, flipping on the siren. "JFK or La Guardia?"

She had to fish for the information in the jumble of new memories. "JFK."

He pulled out into traffic, too slow for Holtz. She put her foot over his and floored the gas pedal until he got the point that she meant _move it_. In the backseat, Janine braced herself and saved her questions until they got to the airport, reaching the gates in record time at the breakneck speed Jillian demanded of Ray. Holtzmann tried to explain the whole story to them along the way.

"I don't understand. How could other me change something. _Why_ would she change something in this timeline?" Janine commented. "What would she possibly want to add?"

Holtzmann all but dove from the car and ran into the terminal. Ray and Janine could barely keep up.

Janine had a fleeting thought and asked: "Jillian…it's not…it's not Egon, is it?"

"No. No." Holtzmann was reading the list of incoming flights until she found the one she needed. "Dad made us promise we wouldn't do that."

Ray frowned. "Why?"

"Apocalyptic consequences," Holtzmann answered.

"Ah." No further explanation was needed as far as the elder Ghostbuster was concerned.

Holtzmann was turned back at the security checkpoint. She could get no closer to the gate no matter how much she pleaded with the guards. Ray and Janine gently pulled her to the waiting area before she got herself arrested.

Her daughter was self-consciously trying to smooth the wrinkles out of the dirty overalls she'd forgotten to change out of before the party. She fussed with the loose strands of her hair until Janine took pity and helped her sweep the unruly blonde curls into place.

"If it's not you or Egon, who else would the other Janine possibly want to add to this timeline? I still don't understand," Janine pressed. "Who-?"

Tiny voices broke into their conversation. "Mum! _Mum_!"

Holtzmann and Janine both went ashen-faced as they turned. Two tiny blonde figures—one small boy and girl-had spotted Holtzmann and charged down the concourse towards her as fast as their stubby legs would carry them. They plowed into her, squeezing her legs with squeals of joy. I.D. badges pinned to their coats identified them as "Ella and Adam Klein". They were twins, obviously, no more than three years old.

 _Holtzmann remembered the party the night that her team had finished the upgrades to the Hadron Collider in Switzerland. At least, she remembered the beginning of the party and a lot of drinking. She remembered weeks before that, bickering with Arthur Klein over each and every suggestion that she'd offered for the project. They had driven each other frigging nuts, to the point where they were either going to kill each other or sleep together. In the end, sex had won out. The next thing Holtzmann remembered was sneaking out of his bed in the morning, cursing to herself: "Mistakemistakemistake…" It had been a bad decision for many reasons._

 _Arthur hadn't lived for them to sort things out. He'd tinkered with the equipment at the collider-against Holtzmann's repeated advice-and there had been an accident. Klein had died after several years in a coma. Jillian had hidden the evidence of his wrong-doing to protect his son, Harry, from the consequences of his father's actions, to make sure that Artie's insurance and hospital bills were paid in full by his employers._

 _Holtzmann had ended up in a mental hospital in upstate New York, sorting through a bought with survivor guilt exacerbated by PTSD from her series of bad foster homes as a child._

 _That's when she'd found out she was pregnant._

 _Twins as it turned out. Ella and Adam had been born in the mental hospital, with Holtzmann hurling curses at the hapless staff in the birthing room._

Holtzmann kissed the tops of their blonde heads, returning the hugs but still looking rather terrified. "Hey, babies."

A prim-looking dark-haired woman came to join them, toting two small suitcases that were garishly adorned with an assortment of stickers. "Mirriam," Holtzmann managed to recall the name of Artie's sister. "They didn't break anything on the plane, right?"

The woman huffed. "My niece and nephew were perfect angels. Well, except, they made this for you." She reached into her handbag and produced a small model of Big Ben that was made of airline peanuts and fingernail glue. "That's my watch they dismantled for the clock face, incidentally. It was a Rolex."

"Oh. Sorry, I can't buy you another one," Holtzmann shrugged. She was sure she heard Ray chuckling discreetly behind her.

Ella beamed proudly at Holtzmann. "Do you like it, mum?"

 _Mum_. _That was going to take some getting used to…it was weird, in a nice way._ Holtzmann smiled down at them. "I'm so stinking proud of you two."

 _Miriam had custody of the kids. That memory trickled back. It had been the best decision at the time. They Kleins had enough clout and money to hire legal sharks that they simply could have sued Holtzmann for the children. Jillian hadn't argued anyway. She was in a mental hospital at the time. She would be homeless when she was released. As Holtzmann had saved Harry's future and their family's reputation, they had offered to allow her to come stay in England, but Jillian couldn't picture it. She might have saved the Klein's family name, but her own reputation in the scientific community was trashed. Ella and Adam had too much to lose being the children of the insane woman who'd nearly opened a black hole in Switzerland._

 _Until Holtzmann could get herself sorted out, rebuild her reputation, manage on her own without having to beg Artie's family for financial means, she wouldn't do that to her children._

Holtzmann noticed the dark-haired young man standing at Mirriam's elbow. He was the spitting image of Artie. "Harry! How are you?"

Every bit as proper as his father, Harry had offered a hearty handshake in lieu of a hug. "I'm well, thank you. I wanted to come along because Auntie said the babies are staying with you for an extended holiday."

That was news to Holtzmann. "Eh?"

Mirriam jutted her chin and cocked her head to the side, indicating that she wanted a private word with Jillian. Holtzmann aimed the toddlers in her own mother's direction. "Ella, Adam…this is your Grandma Janine and Ray."

Ray made some quiet joke at the word 'grandma'. Janine elbowed him in the stomach.

The children beelined to give dumbfounded Janine an equally enthusiastic hug. Ray produced a tiny box of chocolates and started entertaining the children with impressions of zoo animals while Holtzmann and MIrriam stepped off to the side.

"How 'extended' is this holiday, not that I'm complaining?" Holtzmann asked the woman.

"Let's put it this way: I persuaded the magistrate that, as you were competent to save the world from spectral apocalypse, it can be argued that you're competent enough to reclaim custody of your own children."

Holtzmann wasn't entirely sure about that.

"It's not that I don't enjoy having the children…despite the many, many items around the flat that they've…shall we call it 'repurposed'. It's just, they're coming to the age where they're understanding that Auntie Mirriam is not Mum." Mirriam folded her arms across her chest, shuffling nervously. "Harry likes to have his siblings at hand, but he's going off to college. I work long hours at the brokerage house. I imagine Ella and Adam will be quite lonely shuffling about the house with the nannies to raise them. Artie always said he regretted relegating Harry to the boarding schools. I'll do that if you don't want them-"

"The hell you will," Holtzmann glared.

Mirriam nodded. "I'd hoped you'd say that." She pulled an envelope from her handbag. "Then, my Christmas gift to you: The custody papers. Please call me any time you want to bring the children for a visit. I'll be happy to pay the fares."

With that, she moved to make her farewells to the toddlers. Janine gave them their privacy, stepping over to her daughter's side. "There aren't any more changes in the timeline that I should know about, right?"

Holtzmann shook her head.

At least, she didn't have to break the news to the other Ghostbusters. She recalled in this timeline telling Abby about the children and their father's accident back when they worked together at the Higgins Institute. Patty had found out the day that Rowan had possessed Abby. As she hung from the second story window, nearly falling to her demise, Holtzmann had let it slip: " _Tell my children I love them_!"

" _You have children?!_ '" Patty had screamed back.

Erin had come across the pictures when they'd moved their headquarters from the Chinese restaurant to the firehouse. Ella and Adam's picture now stood beside Egon and Janine's on Holtzmann's worktable.

Janine put an arm around her daughter's shoulders. "You ready for this?"

She wondered if she could bribe Janine into moving in with her to help for a while. "I need to babyproof my lab," was all Holtzmann could think to say.

"Good luck with that," Janine answered.

FIN (again)


End file.
